The One
by mandorac
Summary: AU setting. Quinn is a few years older than Sam. Is he the one for her? Can they make their unorthodox relationship work?
1. Quinn

_**Chapter 1~Quinn**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.  
**

Quinn loved Charleston, South Carolina. She had loved the city and coastline since her family had driven through the town on their way to Hilton Head Island when she was a little girl. They had stayed there for a couple nights during their vacations, and she loved the Southern drawl of the old-timers, the tree-lined lanes, the beautiful old homes, the history. As she grew older in Lima, Ohio, she yearned to return to South Carolina. She learned as much as she could about the community over the years, and, as she got older, she took great interest in soaking up as much culture as she could when visiting. One spring break vacation, she even talked her friends Santana and Brittany into accompanying her there for the week. They stayed at Folly Beach, and Quinn was then and there hooked. She knew she had to live there someday and would do anything to make it happen.

Besides Charleston, Quinn's other love was writing. She loved reading young adult novels and even more grownup books. One day at home during her sophomore year of high school, she was upset with her dumb boyfriend Finn and his dumb friend, a guy they called Puck, so she sat down and wrote down why they drove her crazy. She typed it out on her laptop and saved the document, returning to it in later years to re-read her early attempts at writing. Soon after writing this story out, she made a huge mistake with Puck and wound up pregnant with his child (maybe she was just as dumb as she thought they were). For awhile, Finn believed it was his child. She continued writing her story during all this turmoil, the pain of breaking up with Finn, the humiliation at school when it was realized she was a teenage mom _and_ the head cheerleader, the pain of delivery, then heartbreak of handing the baby over to a lady who was a stranger to her. A lot of that time she spent daydreaming of the day she could get out of Ohio and live in South Carolina. The writing helped her escape the here-and-now of her situation at that time.

What she realized after the pregnancy fiasco was she did not need a man to make her world go 'round. Finn moved on with another of their classmates, Puck moved to California after they graduated, and she continued onto Yale where she earned her bachelor's degree in English and honed her writing skills, preparing for her master's degree studies at the College of Charleston. For a few years, she felt that she didn't need a man, a partner, but more and more often she noticed a sense of loneliness setting in. Most days, she could shake it, but some days it just wouldn't leave her. On those days, she turned to her writing, always a great escape for her.

A friend of hers at Yale knew an agent, who read her stuff and signed her during her sophomore year at the university. Before she knew it, she was selling her short YA stories to Signa Publishing. She used the pseudonym _Paul Watson_ and portrayed herself as a man. _Why not?_ she asked herself. She loved the money she was earning during her undergraduate years at Yale and saved a large amount of it. She called that fund her _Charleston Fund_…money she'd use as a down payment someday. She'd chuckle to herself when she saw her books for sale at the grocery or bookstore and wonder how the public could be gullible enough to think a man named _Paul Watson _wrote short stories about three teenaged girls and their adventures and romances.

After the first three short stories of _The Unholy Trinity_ were published, her books were selling like crazy. She based her stories on herself and her two best friends during high school and all their adventures. Of course, she embellished a lot of details about those years, and her two friends were very much aware that she was writing their story and often added creative content for Quinn. Her books became so popular that Signa had to hire an actor to portray _Paul Watson_ to go to book signings and such. Very few people knew she was _Paul Watson _and that was how she wanted it. By the time her four years at Yale were finished, she had penned nine short stories, the life and times of her sophomore year in high school, though she wouldn't tell her teen pregnancy story until later.

Her next move after Yale was to South Carolina to continue her degree at the College of Charleston, a prestigious university established in the year 1770. She nearly couldn't wait to get her Yale degree in her hands to leave for South Carolina. The very next day after graduation, she was driving her pink VW Beetle southward to a one-bedroom apartment in the Radcliffeborough neighborhood of Charleston. She had a deadline to meet for Signa and fan mail to respond to. Signa had made a stamp of the actor's handwriting of _Paul Watson_ that Quinn used to sign correspondence. Sometimes, she felt a twinge of letting people down by using a pseudonym but then remembered how very much she loved her privacy. Besides, how could she continue writing if people were all up in her business all the time?

Her studies and writing for Signa left very little time for socializing, but she managed to squeeze in some dates. They were mostly friends of friends from the College or guys who were also in the English graduate degree program. Most of the time and with most of the guys, it was a one-date situation. Only a select few made it to a second date, third date, fourth date…and only a couple guys were invited into her bedroom. One guy took her to his parent's mansion on Sullivan's Island and she fell in love with the place. Not the gigantic home, but the island itself. Unfortunately, she didn't find love with that guy, but she kept the idea of living on Sullivan's Island tucked away for a rainy day and changed the name of her savings to _Sullivan's Island Fund_.

Actually, she was beginning to think she'd never find a guy to love, who would love her. She buried herself in her studies and Signa kept sending her ideas of what people wanted her to write about so she figured she had no time for real romance at the moment.

_Maybe I'll just get a cat to keep me company_, she thought one morning after another lousy date. At the moment, she was writing the story of how her friend thought she was pregnant because she had seen a stork at her house. That was the first story in a series about her own pregnancy and consequent adoption. _Definitely not in the mood to date._

That story took her nearly a month to get written out and by that time her master's degree at the College of Charleston was about done. Her plan had been to find an actual house by the time she finished her degree. She had been saving all her earnings from Signa plus she had squirreled away a monetary graduation gift from her father when she finished up at Yale and had been freakishly frugal, so she was set as far as a down payment. She had a thousand ideas of what she wanted in her home, furniture, appliances, color schemes, carpet and laminate flooring, room layout, even the color of her front door. The only problems she had were no good leads on houses and her self-imposed deadline looming every day, weighing heavily on her mind. Oh, and her mother calling nearly daily to find out if she had met _The One_.

That's how Quinn thought of this mysterious man, _The One_. Italicized and each word capitalized. For some reason, it was of the utmost importance to her mother. She tried to explain to her mom that right now was not a good time to be on the lookout for a guy…soon though. She'd say that to appease her mother, all the while hearing her father in the background telling her mom to lay off! Her older sister had been married for five years now and even had a couple kids so Quinn guessed her mother felt some sense of urgency about Quinn and her boyfriend-less situation.

She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for in _The One _anyway. She had been attracted to a number of different guys, mostly in good shape, taller than her, smart, funny. She herself had kept herself in good shape. Her hair was still the blonde it was in high school (sometimes with a little help from the salon), and she loved to wear unique outfits to show off her fit girlish figure. She knew she could still catch the eye of guys and that always made her day.

Finding _The One_was bound to happen, she knew it. She just had no idea when it would happen…or where.

**A/N: This is just a bit of background about Quinn; the story will be told from Quinn's point-of-view. Stick with me...it gets better! :)**


	2. Moving

_**Chapter 2~Moving**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Quinn considered it divine intervention when she found the listing for her soon-to-be home. During graduate school, she lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in the Radcliffeborough neighborhood near downtown Charleston, completing her studies at the College of Charleston and writing her YA novels, saving as much money as possible for a down payment. Every Sunday, though, she scoured the real estate listings in _The Post and Courier_, Charleston's newspaper, looking for something she might be able to afford. She had a good idea where she wanted to live (Sullivan's Island) and knew about how much of a down payment she'd need. She even had her very own real estate agent, an old college friend of her dad's, who was helping with her search. With the housing market being a buyer's market, she hoped to find something before her graduate studies ended in December. She had just finished her tenth short story for Signa, her publisher, so she wouldn't have another deadline for awhile. This particular Sunday fell at the end of November, a blustery gray chilly day.

Running a finger down the listings, she saw a listing that caused her to hold her breath...there it was. A personal listing for a property on Sullivan's Island.

_The Property That Time Forgot_

_An oversized bungalow in need of some cosmetic TLC, located on Sullivan's Island! Beachfront property!_

_Four bedrooms, 2 full baths and 2 half baths, extra space for entertaining, wrap-around porch, in-ground pool and hot tub, large secluded lot, next to nature preserve, ocean view._

_Come see this home at our open house this Sunday, 1-4._

_Priced well below market value for quick sale...make this home your own._

The ad provided directions and a number to call. It was in a gated community on the island and Quinn would need a pass code to view the home. _What the hell?_ she thought. _It couldn't hurt to check it out. _She called her realtor first who thankfully was available; he then called and got the code. She got ready to head that way, somewhat nervously excited. Sullivan's Island was where she wanted to live.

_xxxxx_

She had been out to Sullivan's Island before, of course...a professor at Clemson held a party at his mansion once, an old flame's parent's house was there...and she liked the island. She loved the history, the close proximity to Charleston, and just the _feel _of the location. The beaches were mainly private there, for residents only, unlike Folly's Island, which was largely open to tourists.

Quinn met up with Don Branscum, her realtor, at her apartment.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, Don," Quinn said, once she reached his car. He gave her the address of the gated community since she was following him out there.

"No problem, princess," he told her with a smile and a wink.

They drove to the island. They twisted around curving lanes and avenues until they were driving parallel to the ocean's edge; they drove for at least 15 minutes before reaching the gates. The gated community was aptly named _Sully's Paradise_.

Don put his car in park and walked back to Quinn's. "If memory serves correct, this property is at the other end of this community. Let's go take a look."

Quinn smiled, waited for him to return to his car, and followed him inside the gates.

The homes were outstanding along this stretch, multi-million-dollar homes, and Quinn began to wonder exactly what she was doing. There was no way she could ever afford to live...

And then Don stopped his car. She stopped her car. And just as easily as that, she was looking at her dream home.

She got out of her car slowly, taking in the property. No one else was there, yet there was a sign announcing an "open house" along with balloons. It wasn't very much to look at, but Quinn could definitely see the potential.

It was the last house on the lane; it was at a dead end on Sully Pike and right next to a nature preserve, like the ad had claimed. It was actually a very large bungalow, much larger than she expected. It was painted a peeling dull gray and had white shutters on most of the windows, downstairs and upstairs. A large garage was attached. The sizable front yard was enclosed by an old peeling white picket fence, the gate of which was creaking in the stiff cool sea breeze.

"You sure you want to look at this?" Don asked her, joining her at the gate. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

Quinn didn't even spare him a second glance before holding the gate open and entering the yard. "I'd like to see it, Don."

He sighed and followed her up the path to the expansive porch. It wrapped around to the side of the house facing the nature preserve. An old porch swing gently moved to and fro along with the ocean breeze. The front door was open, lights on inside. Don held the door open for Quinn, and she stepped inside.

Her first thought upon entering the home was _why didn't I just pack my bags? _She was literally ready to move in right then and there. She had never felt somewhere so damn cozy. A man about Don's age came from the back of the house when he heard the door and whoosh of wind come in.

He was smiling, friendly, shook Don's hand first, then Quinn's, and introduced himself as Tom Whitaker, the only son of the owners of the home.

"I'm not much of a salesman...I know the house doesn't look too great from the outside but it does have great 'bones'. My father built it, and we were the only family to live in it for roughly 50 years. He continually updated the important things, roof, plumbing, electricity, insulation, even the foundation. They are both now in a nursing home and my wife and I can't keep up with the maintenance on this property...we live in Florida...so my parents have decided to sell it." He handed Don the information sheet about the property while Don introduced himself and Quinn. Quinn, though, was entranced with looking around.

Most of the furniture was covered, and the interior of the house definitely needed updating, as far as carpeting and painting went. She could tell, though, that when they shut the front door behind them the sound of the wind lessened yet she could still hear the ocean. A definite must.

They were in the foyer area at the front door, facing a coat closet, which was built in underneath the staircase to the upstairs. A dining room was to their left, which connected to the kitchen. The fourth room on the lower floor, between the living room and kitchen, was an office of sorts, or so it appeared to Quinn. It had dark wood paneling, which she immediately thought would have to go. It also had a small half bathroom; Quinn saw the potential for a guestroom there. A fireplace was in the corner of the adjoining wall with the living room. In the living room, at that same corner, was another fireplace. The living room also had a shag carpet, light greenish, and cream-colored walls. The dining room held a large table, enough to seat 8 it appeared, plus room for a hutch cupboard. It had wallpaper in some old floral design. The kitchen was outdated with linoleum and old light wood cabinets, done in an orange from the 1970s, but it was extra large. A door off the kitchen led to the half bathroom and a pantry of sorts and then the 3-car attached garage.

"Wow, that's pretty bright," Quinn said, laughing a little about the color of the kitchen appliances. Still, she liked the size of the room and the layout.

"My mother loved the color _tangerine_," Don said, laughing. "It was all the rage in the mid '60s."

Don was asking Tom technical questions about the property and community while Quinn nosed around. The staircase to the upstairs was at the back of the house, between the kitchen and office room. She asked if she could explore upstairs, and Tom said that that was fine. Going up the stairs, she realized she had not heard one floorboard creak. At the top of the stairs, she stood surrounded by rooms. The master suite took up the front of the house upstairs; it stretched across the house and included its own bathroom and walk-in closet and a balcony overlooking the Atlantic. There was another full bathroom plus three smaller bedrooms taking up the rest of the space upstairs. Again, the flooring would need to be updated, as well as paint and wallpaper. That was fine with Quinn, though; she had been dreaming of this for years and knew exactly what she wanted. Just for the fun of it, she stepped into the master bedroom, large enough to hold a king-sized bed plus actual furniture, went into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. Everything worked fine there. She had so many plans. She practically skipped back downstairs.

"There is basement access in the garage...not a huge space, more like a crawl space. Would you like to see the backyard?" Tom asked.

"Very much so," Quinn said, nearly squealing.

There was a back door at the far corner of the office room that led out to the wrap-around porch, which then wrapped around the back of the house into a beautiful covered deck. A Jacuzzi was built into a gazebo corner of the deck, just outside the office, closest to the nature preserve. The in-ground pool was just steps off the deck and covered at this point of the year. The surrounding backyard was spacious and contained in an extra tall privacy fence and plenty of mature trees. Another back door was at the garage where one could enter the kitchen and the second half bathroom.

"Now, the pool and hot tub will need to be cleaned, of course, but there are plenty of pool guys around here, always willing to do the job," Tom told Quinn.

"So, the property has the nature preserve to the north and west?"

"Correct...Sully Pike ends there at the front of the house and this property extends to the south where Coast Lane is," he said. "In total, it's about a 1-acre size lot."

Quinn nodded, not wanting to give too much away, as far as how much she had already fallen in love with the place. Even the sides of the property where the roadways were had seclusion with full-grown trees.

They checked out the garage, very roomy with an attic, more than enough room for her Beetle actually. Then, they took a quick walk down to the shoreline, and Tom showed her where her part of the beach ended. _Her part of the beach_, she died when he said those words.

She stood at the water's edge, cold at that time of the year, and wrapped her green woolen cardigan tightly around her, letting the breeze pick up her blonde hair as she looked up and down the coastline. This was it...she could live here for years and years, writing forever until her heart was content, and still be close enough to Charleston to socialize, maybe even go for her doctorate at some point.

They walked back to the house and stood on the front porch. Tom handed her a sheet of information about the house, the specifications and the asking price. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, shook his hand, and said she'd be in touch. She whispered to Don to meet her at the coffeehouse they frequented to discuss her real estate options.

She was so excited she could barely drive to downtown Charleston. Once she met Don inside at "their" table, her smile was contagious.

"You loved it, didn't you?" he asked her right away.

She nodded vigorously. "I want to make an offer...today."

He chuckled. "First things first...we'll ask to have the home inspected, then you can make your offer. You'll be paying in cash, correct?"

That was the best part. The entirety of her down payment savings could pay for the home. She would only need to finance updates to the place. She was so ready for this.

"Draw up the paperwork...I'll even give them earnest money...I want that place, Don!" Quinn said, bouncing in her seat a little.

He was well aware of Quinn Fabray's convictions and persistence in finding the right place. He had never seen this kind of reaction from her about a house.

"Fine, I'll call Tom and let him know, then draw up the papers. You can come in tomorrow to sign them," he said, smiling at her, laughing as she clapped and squealed in her seat.

_xxxxx_

A month later, her lease ended on her apartment, her car was loaded, and the moving guys were already at her new house unloading stuff. Considering it the _best. Christmas. gift _ever, she pulled away from the building she had called home the last couple years and headed out to Sullivan's Island.

She drove around the small island once, checking out the small downtown. She now had her very own personal code for the gates and was thrilled to use it the first time, then pulled up at her very own, brand-new-to-her house. The moving guys were waiting on her. It only took two guys; her accumulated stuff was not very much. In fact, when they finished moving it in 20 minutes later, it barely filled the living room. All her stuff...in one living room...of a four-bedroom home. She paid the guys and they left. She then sat down in her favorite chair and looked around and listened. There was nothing to listen to except the tide. No neighbors squabbling over whose turn it was to take the trash out, no horns bleeping, no ambulance sirens racing to the downtown medical center, no upstairs dog barking constantly...just absolute and complete _quiet_.

_**A/N: **_**The great thing about fiction is it can be as un-real as you want it to be. I know that beachfront property is not going to go for what Quinn has her in savings, not even a dump. But, since this is all make-believe, I decided to let her have her dream. :) Spoiler alert: Sam Evans will be introduced in chapter 3!**


	3. Pritchett's Market

_**Chapter 3~Pritchett's Market  
**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Once the shock of the quietness passed, Quinn decided to go from room to room, just to check out her new home yet again. The report from the inspection had come back perfect. The house was even upgraded for today's technology, even if it looked straight out of the 1950s. She wouldn't have cable or internet access for a week, but all of her other utilities were turned on and functioning. Her mom and dad (who had reconciled after their fallout when Quinn was in high school) would be arriving in a couple days to help get her set up. Her mother already had plans to go to a Home Depot store for paint samples and she also wanted Quinn to check into new appliances and furniture. Tom had left all the window coverings, thank goodness, so her life wouldn't be exposed to the closest neighbors just yet. She went around the upstairs and pulled all the drapes closed. For awhile, she'd be sleeping in the living room on her sofa sleeper.

The house seemed so _empty _now, with all the Whitaker's belongings gone and only her few meager items in the living room. She had unloaded her car and placed a few things in the refrigerator and realized she needed more food in the house. She rearranged the stuff in the living room so it appeared more organized, at least to her, and then decided to drive to the center of the island where there was a small downtown with specialty stores and hopefully a market.

The day was once again a chilly and windy gray day, so she wrapped her green cardigan about herself and checked her appearance in the mirror in the downstairs bathroom. She slapped on a little lip gloss that she found in her purse and ran a brush through her shoulder-length blonde hair, causing the ends to fall in waves. She figured she'd be okay in her black yoga pants...who did she know on this island?

She left her gated community and made her way to the little downtown area. She found a sizable market and made a note to herself to just walk there in the summer if she didn't need a ton of stuff. The parking lot was practically empty...a couple cars besides her Beetle and a beat-up box truck that proclaimed: _"Pritchett's Grocery Delivery!"_

_Interesting_, Quinn thought, making her way up to the market.

The market itself was upscale since they catered to the rich folks on the island. She chose a cart and began meandering around, picking and choosing foods as she went along. It was well lit, very clean, lots of black and wood accents and forest green, and even the music playing softly overhead was soothing. She chose some fresh fruit and veggies, sliced turkey, bread, milk, bottled water. Passing the alcohol aisle, she figured what the hell and wandered down it. She chose some light wine coolers...she didn't want to be perceived as a drunk her first day in town. She picked up some easy microwaveable dinners, figuring her mother would take her grocery shopping for the serious goods later on. She made her way to one of the checkout lanes.

An older gentleman rang up her few items, then asked to see her ID. She handed it over but before he inspected it he picked up a microphone and bellowed into it: "Sam to the front please! Sam to the front!"

He handed her ID back. She heard footfalls running her way and suddenly a gorgeous young blonde boy was standing at the end of the lane, his hair askew and slightly out of breath but with a wide grin plastered on his beautiful face.

He stared at Quinn, head cocked to the side slightly, studying her. He had the prettiest eyes she'd ever seen. He kept staring at her and finally, blushing, she said _what?_

"You're new around here?"

"You're very observant, Sam," she replied, looking back down at her groceries. _Oh my god, you just called him by his name! Augh you idiot! _she thought embarrassed.

"How'd you know my-ohhh yeah," he said, then laughed a hearty chuckle. "Uh, paper okay? Mr. Pritch don't use plastic."

"You'll see, sonny, paper is better than plastic. I'd die before I ever saw a plastic sack with my name on it polluting the great Atlantic!" the man behind the register replied. Quinn assumed he was, in fact, _the_ Mr. Pritchett.

"Paper is fine, thank you," she said. Sam kind of kept staring at her as he placed item after item in a bag.

"Sam, boy, the grapes! The grapes! Oh my!" Mr. Pritchett said all aflutter.

Now it was Sam's turn to blush deeply. "Oh, yeah, right, my bad..." He began taking everything out of the sack, including her squashed loaf of bread and grapes. "I'll go get ya another."

He took off jogging through the store.

Mr. Pritchett gave her the total, mumbling about airhead kids, and she handed him some bills. "It's okay, really. So, you deliver groceries?"

His face lightened up. "We do! We can do weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly deliveries or if you call we can run whatever you need out to you. We keep your credit card information on file or you can set up an account. We even have the fancy barcode scanners so you can just walk around the store, point and fire that thing, and it'll create a list of your most common items that you'll need."

"Sounds great! Sign me up!" she said, smiling, hearing the thudding steps returning. This time, Sam was out of breath, his face reddened from the impromptu exercise. She took a really good look at him this time, his blonde hair curling behind his ears, the beautiful sea-green-blue eyes and long lashes, the nose with just a bit of a crook in it, clear slightly tanned skin, and oh god, his lips.

"Ma'am?" he asked her. Apparently, he had been talking to her while she zoned out staring at his unbelievably gorgeous face.

"I'm sorry..."

"S'no prob...you need help out to your car?" he asked, smiling. Perfect teeth. _He's a kid, Quinn, back off!_ she thought.

"Uh, yeah, sure..." She needed no help; she had two sacks. To Mr. Pritchett, she said, "I'll be back in to sign up for the delivery service. Thank you for the info!"

"Glad to be of your service, Mrs.-?"

"Oh, _Miss_, Fabray...thanks!" she said and followed the boy, who was wearing a forest green polo with _Pritchett's _embroidered at the left breast over a long-sleeved thermal undershirt and loose-fitting faded blue jeans, out the door.

Walking next to him, she found he was taller than her. _Not so much a kid_, she thought and then _stop it Quinn!_

"It's the pink Beetle," she said, popping the trunk at the front.

"Cute car…like a Barbie mobile," he said, laughing. "My little sis has a toy one. Betsy might get one later when she gets her license."

Quinn felt her heart drop ever so slightly. _He's a kid! He's a kid! He's a kid! _she thought furiously.

"I see...your friend?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend..." he replied, nonchalantly, loading her two sacks in her car. "So, where ya livin'?"

"The old Whitaker place on..."

"On Sully Pike! Wow, you bought that place?" he asked her, smiling again and shutting the trunk lid.

"Yes, I did...just a few days ago, as a matter of fact," she answered proudly, twisting her keys in her hands.

"They sure were nice people..." he said, his hair whipping in the wind. She pulled her cardigan around her more tightly.

Just then, a newer model BMW swerved into the lot, music blaring and girls laughing. It screeched to a halt at Quinn's Beetle.

"Ha, there she is now...hey Bets!" he called and waved to the car.

A petite brunette popped out of the passenger side and ran up to Sam, throwing her arms around his neck and pecking him on his smooth cheek. _God Quinn, he doesn't even have facial hair!_

"I gotta go back in, Betsy...I'm not done for another couple hours," he said to the bubbly girl.

"I know, goofy! I just wanted to stop by to see you so you wouldn't forget who I was!" she said cheerfully, then cast a quick glance to Quinn.

"Thanks Sam...I appreciate the help," she said to him, going to the driver's side.

"No prob, ma'am," he said back to her, turning his attention to the girl. Quinn overheard the girl say _I love that car!_

Behind the wheel, Quinn fumed. _He called me ma'am? What the fuck?_

She wasn't sure why she had the sudden attraction to that guy. Maybe because for the past month her life had been focused on buying her house, finishing her graduate degree, writing her short stories...she had had no time for a social life. She didn't know if it was his eyes, his lips, his slender hips, or just his smile that made her notice him.

_Maybe it was just his youthful exuberance, that's what it was_, she thought, nibbling a fingernail.

_xxxxx_

Thankfully, her new house took her mind off the young blonde boy at the market. She convinced herself that he was way, _way_ too young for her and she focused on her home. The first couple nights there were deafening quiet. She loved the sound of the ocean, but she also realized that she now was in a home _alone_, _by herself_, and suddenly could hear every sound the house made in the wind. The wine coolers definitely helped put her to sleep.

Her parents arrived for the weekend and were enough to drive anyone bonkers. She gave them the "grand tour" and was pleased when her mother was happy with her choice of property, looking at it from her real estate point of view. They talked about decorating ideas for each room as they passed through each one. She had applied for and received a decent home improvement loan with terms even better than a mortgage so she couldn't wait to start making the house her own.

She helped her father maneuver her bed upstairs to the master suite and get it set up so her parents could sleep there. They insisted on taking the sofa sleeper, but Quinn would hear nothing of that. She went with her father to a Costco and he bought her what seemed to be a metric ton of groceries and supplies for the house. Her mother stayed at her house and tried to unpack stuff but mainly only unloaded kitchenware. They decided that since they were visiting from Ohio, her parents wanted to get their seafood on, so she took them to one of her favorite places in Charleston, Hank's. The place was busy since it was a Saturday night.

While enjoying a lovely conversation with her parents about her home and some shrimp scampi, Quinn heard a commotion from a few tables over.

"Sam, that had to have been the dumbest thing I've _ever _heard!" Quinn recognized the peppy voice and then a blur of a brunette in a hot pink ball gown whizzed past her table. Her eyes followed the girl, then she realized someone was pushing past her to follow the girl.

"C'mon Bets, wait up, will ya?" Sam passed behind Quinn and she watched him follow the girl, him wearing a black suit. _They must be going to some sort of dance_, Quinn thought. _He sure looked handsome_. She rolled her eyes at herself and really just wanted to smack her hand with a ruler.

"Well, looks like their evening will not be ending well," her mother said curtly, getting back to her salmon and wine.

Quinn didn't reply...what was there to say? _He's just a kid and that's how kids behave when on a grownup date_, she thought.

Her mother then looked back to Quinn. "That reminds me…have you met-?"

Quinn groaned. "Not yet, mom! I just moved into the new house! No time to meet _The One_ yet!"

"Really, Judy, don't bother Quinn about men…" her father attempted.

"I was just curious," Judy responded.

Several minutes later, as Quinn was being served a slice of cheesecake to share with her father, Sam returned, head hanging low. Quinn glanced up and scooted her chair up to let him pass behind her. At the last second, his eyes met hers. She could tell he was upset. He recognized her, though, and attempted a smile.

"Hey there, Miss Fabray," he mumbled, passing by her, going back to his table to settle the bill.

_At least he didn't call me ma'am_, she thought.

Judy looked from Quinn to Sam and back to Quinn. "You two know each other?"

"Oh no, he works at the market on the island…a bagboy, I guess," Quinn said.

"He's quite the looker," Judy tittered, the wine obviously taking effect.

_xxxxx_

By the time her parents left on Monday morning, Quinn had paint swatches taped up in all the rooms and ideas for flooring and furniture. Sunday had been a very busy day. Her father talked her into having the house sided with cedar siding. She chose a color of pale gray-blue called Pacific, which she found amusing since she now lived right on the Atlantic, and she'd stick with white shutters. She had always wanted a navy blue front door so she chose the paint for that. She wanted the house to blend in with the nature surrounding it. Inside though, she wanted a color explosion. She arranged a date for the work to begin on the house, and her father helped her choose a construction company.

Inside, she started with the kitchen and dining room. The theme for her kitchen was grapes because she loved purple. She just restained the original cabinets a darker stain and painted the walls bright white with grape and purple accents all around. When renovations began, she was having bamboo flooring put in. The tangerine appliances were removed and new stainless steel ones installed. The dining room was a pale lavender and would have plush deep purple carpet eventually. The drapes were purple velvet to match the carpet but had tiny white lilies on them. She bought a fancy new light fixture to go over her fancy new table and six chairs. She had cut a deal with the Whitakers and bought their hutch cupboard to keep in the dining room, she liked it that much. Eventually, her new chinaware would go on display there.

She wanted the living room to be warm and inviting, even though it already exuded that (minus the shag carpeting, which was later changed out for a plush deep brown carpet). There was a fireplace in the corner of the room, next to the office where there was also a fireplace, an original design of Mr. Whitaker. She painted the walls a deep mocha color, then added taupe furniture, big comfy pieces to relax on. She found a dark purple high-backed corner chair that she fell in love with and bought it and put in the corner, to carry the purple theme throughout. She added taupe drapes but white sheers underneath so that she could open the windows in the summertime and let the breeze flow through. She draped several cashmere throws around the room.

What had been an office downstairs, Quinn made a guest bedroom since it opened onto the deck and Jacuzzi. She decided she'd rather have her office upstairs anyway. This room required the removal of the old fake wood paneling and then wall papering. Her entire downstairs, for quite some time, was a disaster area, it appeared. That was fine with her, though, and was a fine way to spend the winter months. The guestroom was done in pale oranges and pinks, her mother's idea. Quinn loved picking out the bedding and accessories for the room once the queen-sized bed had been delivered. She had custom blinds made and covered those with sheer curtains. It turned out to be a very cheery room. She had to add a punch of purple though and found that in throw pillows for the bed. The half bathroom off the guestroom she left all white and used accents of orange and pink for spots of color.

Thankfully, all of the bathrooms were in fairly good condition and only needed cosmetic work done to them. She had to have an ocean-themed room so she chose to do that in the downstairs half bath off the kitchen. She painted the small space a pale blue and picked out some shells from her part of the beach.

Upstairs, she started on her bedroom and bathroom first. She ordered a king-sized bed for herself and moved her old queen to one of the spare rooms. Her bedroom, she painted navy blue. The carpet she chose for her bedroom was also navy blue with a faint pattern of purple running through it. The drapes were navy with white sheers underneath. Basically, she wanted her bedroom to be a cave, somewhere she could hibernate if need be. Her bathroom, though, she decorated like a spa. She always thought of spas in aqua, green, and white and that's what she did, updating the basin in the sink and having the shower and floor re-tiled. Her bed was an oasis in the bedroom. She had white wicker furniture throughout but the bed...she loved it. It was a large sleigh bed with a pillowtop mattress that felt as though she was sleeping on a cloud. She dressed it with baby blue Egyptian cotton sheets some days, some days deep purple, some days white. She even had six pillows on it! She felt so decadent when she picked those out.

She still had two guest bedrooms and the other full bath to work on when she finished her office. She needed to take a break though because Signa had contacted her about a new line to The Unholy Trinity stories. People were begging for the back story of all three girls. They wanted more stories about the secondary and background characters in the books. Sometimes, Quinn would call her friends Santana and Brittany for ideas, since they were part of the original 'unholy trinity'. In the books, they were known as Kelley (Quinn), Sophia (Santana), and Brentley (Brittany) (she let them choose the names of their alter egos).

She had been working on the house for three months. She was ready to have visitors since spring was upon them. During those three months, she had struck up an intense affair with the construction crew chief, a guy named Jim. It seemed the construction guys were in her house every single day for weeks on end, and she communicated mostly with Jim regarding decisions about the house. One night, he stayed late and it just flared up between them. She was on the verge of considering him _The One _when she found out more about him than she cared to know and broke off the relationship.

"Hey girlie...I want you and Britt-Britt to come see me and my house," Quinn said into the phone, calling Santana.

"Let me check my schedule..." Quinn heard some rustling of papers on her lawyer friend's desk. "Oh! Well, what'd'ya know? Britt and I need a vacation!"

Santana worked as a lawyer in Manhattan; she and Brittany had been legally married as soon as Santana passed the bar.

"Yay! I can't wait for you to see the place..." Quinn told her. "And, I need your creative influence on the books."

"What about Jim? Will he be hanging around?" Santana asked her. Quinn had confided in Santana about Jim but no one else knew about him, not even her mother.

"Um, no...we split up," Quinn replied, nibbling on a finger. "Things went south when I found out about his wife and kids."

"Oh no! God, what an ass! Is this recent? How are you doing? Hey, how 'bout this weekend? We'll fly down," Santana said. "And let's make cookies from scratch!"

Quinn laughed. "No, not recent and I'm fine...the guestroom is ready for you two...you'll love it."

"Great...I better run...I have some appointments to reschedule...love you Quinnie! See you Friday night!" Santana air-kissed her over the phone and hung up.

For the next couple days, Quinn tried to write in her new office, but it was difficult to get started. She called this room her 'blank slate', meaning she painted the walls a steely gray, put in soft gray carpet, and then added any eclectic piece of art that caught her eye. She had invested in an L-shaped desk and comfy desk chair and tucked those in a corner near a window that overlooked her backyard. Instead of writing, most days she found herself daydreaming while staring at the pool not-yet-opened.

That was where she was sitting Thursday night while daydreaming when she received an email from Brittany that read: _b there soon Q! there are no giant crabs where u live, right?_

"Shit!" Quinn said out loud. She had completely forgotten about her guests...shit, shit, shit!

The house was fine; Quinn kept it neat, clean, and organized...she needed to stock up on food and booze, though. And that meant running down to Pritchett's Market since it was getting late Thursday night. During her home renovations, she had pretty much avoided the market due to a certain blonde-haired guy and being involved with a certain construction worker. She also had not had time to set up her grocery delivery. She had to go there tonight, though, because the girls wanted chocolate chip cookies and she knew she didn't have the stuff on hand to whip up a batch.

"Shit..." she mumbled again, turning off lights and grabbing her purse and keys.


	4. Pigtails

_**Chapter 4~Pigtails**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

The parking lot at Pritchett's was deserted on a Thursday night, for which Quinn was eternally thankful, or so she thought. She had run out of her house in gray shorts, an old red t-shirt from her high school, her hair in two pigtails, and no makeup. She entered the well-lit store and grabbed a cart.

She moved up and down the aisles quickly, trying to remember everything she'd need. The store seemed mostly empty, except for employees. The soft music was again playing, though Quinn was a bit frazzled. She went to the baking needs aisle first and started pulling things off shelves for the cookies. In her haste, she knocked a box of baking powder on the floor. She bent over to pick it up and then about died from embarrassment.

"Tryin' to tear up the merchandise?" the deep voice asked from behind her, a hint of a chuckle underlying.

She stood up quickly, eye to eye with Sam, the blonde-haired guy. She was speechless; he was so hot he took her breath away...or maybe that was from bending over.

He laughed a bit, then looked her up and down quickly, his eyes landing on her pigtails. "Like the piggies..." He tugged on one and walked away, still chuckling.

_What the hell just happened?_ she thought, watching his perfect ass walk away from her. Then, she realized _he_ had come up behind her, while she was bent over at the waist. She took a few deep breaths before continuing her shopping. She now was on high alert for the blonde guy, who, for some reason, looked more like a _guy_ than a _boy_ to her now. Maybe the slacks, dress shirt, and tie?

She made sure to pick up a T-bone for Brittany and boneless skinless chicken breasts for her and Santana, baking potatoes, salad fixings, breakfast foods, and wine, lots of wine. She also needed salty snacks...chips and Cheetos and pretzels...to go along with the cookies. She hoped the girls stayed longer than the weekend.

She turned down the aisle for chocolate chips (she nearly forgot the damn things), and there he was…stocking items…standing right in front of the chocolate chips.

He saw her making her way toward him and smiled the lopsided grin.

"We meet again," she said, smiling at him.

"Small world…"

"At least I'm not tossing food all over your store," she blurted out, causing him to laugh loudly.

"Thanks for keeping it together! Whatcha lookin' for?"

"Um, chocolate chips…for cookies," she replied, not knowing why she gave him more information than he needed to know.

"From scratch? I bet your husband likes that," he said, handing her a package of Nestle's chips.

"Well, there is no husband, just some old friends…better grab me another one," she said. He did so, then stood there with his hands on his hips.

"So, ya liking the Whitaker place?" he asked.

"Very much so…it's a lovely home."

"Cool…glad ya like it here," he said, going back to putting stuff on the shelf. "Oh, just hit the bell when you're ready to check out…the other person here tonight doesn't do checkout."

"Sure…" she said, moving on down the aisle. At the end of the aisle, turning her cart toward the alcohol, she glanced back at him and found him staring at her. He quickly went back to his work and she moved on to find some wine.

_He's a sweet kid, Quinn, get your mind off him…you need a man, not a boy…wait, you don't need either one! You're perfectly fine without all that drama!_ she thought picking a couple bottles of wine from the shelves, plus margarita ingredients. _I need to try out that blender, just sitting there at home, doing nothing_.

Finally satisfied that she had everything she needed after checking, double-checking, and even _triple_-checking her cart, she made her way to the checkout lanes. There was a bell sitting there, so she dinged it once and started unloading her cart.

Sam came jogging up to the front from the baking aisle, smiled at Quinn, and began running her stuff over the scanner.

"So, you're doing it all tonight?" she asked, making conversation.

"Yep, I'm in charge on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights to give Mr. Pritch a break," he said. She noticed his name tag read _Sam E, Asst Mgr_.

"He seems like a nice man to work for…"

"Oh yeah, he is…he's taught me a lot," Sam told her, laughing a bit. She had to admit, watching him laugh and smile and the way his bluish-green eyes (tonight they looked more blue to her) would crinkle up at the corners was melting her inside.

The bottles of wine and tequila made their way to the scanner.

"Oh…hang on a sec…" He pulled the microphone to his mouth. "Bonnie, register 2 please…Bonnie."

Looking at Quinn, he said, "We have to be at least 18 to scan liquor…"

She must've been staring at him blankly because he then said, "I'm still 17."

Quinn felt her jaw drop.

_xxxxx_

He bagged up all her stuff and pushed the cart to her Beetle for her. He even told her if he didn't have to run the store he would've followed her to her house and helped her take them in.

She laughed politely and told him _thanks but no thanks, I can handle it fine_. She then drove herself home, cracking up.

"Seventeen, Quinn!" she said out loud. "Oh my god, girl, you flirted with a seventeen-year-old!"

And, if she wasn't mistaken, he had flirted a little with her too.

_xxxxx_

The next day, Quinn met her friends Santana and Brittany at the airport and drove them to Sullivan's Island. She had, of course, sent them before and after pictures of her home, but they were anxious to see it in person.

"That flight was horrific!" Santana said as soon as they pulled away from the airport. "Crying babies, rude men, ugh, just rude stinky _everyone_!"

"I could've sworn I saw a blacksmith fixing a horseshoe on the wing, too," Brittany said with total seriousness.

Santana glanced at Quinn. "She had a _calming _pill before we left."

Quinn giggled, happy to see her friends. "I'm just glad you two could fly down on such short notice. I've missed you both! We have a lot of work to do though…I moved my pregnancy story to our junior year…Signa thought me getting pregnant in tenth grade would not be wise for young girls to read…"

Santana rolled her eyes.

"So anyway, we need to think up some stuff for our junior year…"

"Definitely prom…will they let your write about Blaine and Kurt and that whole thing?"

"I think so…that's a great idea…a lot of readers have asked for more back story about them," Quinn told them. "I'll have to check with them to make sure they're okay with their story being told."

She pulled up to the gates and entered her code.

"Wow, Q, it's just beautiful here…perfect for you," Santana said, taking in the surroundings. "It's nothing like Folly's!"

"No squids have washed up, have they, Quinn? Squidward freaks me the hell out," Brittany said from the backseat.

"Nope, no squids, Britt…I did see a sponge once though!"

"No way…did he have little brown pants on?"

Quinn laughed. "Britt, you're funny! No, no pants…a pantless sponge!"

_xxxxx_

Santana and Brittany loved Quinn's house. They told her they wanted to move there. She said they were welcome to visit whenever but she was living alone for now.

"I wish you had the pool open, Q," Santana said as they stood on the deck looking out at it.

"Hmm…me too…" Quinn replied, suddenly wondering if Sam from the market did pool work. She sipped on her margarita.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Q, but you live out in the boonies. How're you gonna find a man in the boonies?" Brittany asked her.

"It's not the boonies!" Quinn said, laughing, feeling a tad tipsy. "Okay, maybe a little boonie, but not much! And, I don't need no man!"

"Quinn, you need someone, your lobster…and not one that might crawl up on your beach…"

"Oh, Britt, she'll find her lobster…" Santana said, slipping her arm around Brittany's shoulders. "And she'll let him crawl up all over her beach!"

They all laughed uncontrollably.

"What if I said I have found a _potential _lobster?" Quinn offered, the tequila going to her head.

Santana and Brittany stared at her.

"Spill!"

Quinn told them about the blonde _boy _at the market and had them both laughing so hard they were all crying by the end of her story.

"Just let that one go, Q, baby, and find yourself a _man_!" Brittany told her.

"Oh, but Britt, he looks like a man!"

"But, Quinn, he's _not_…don't get yourself into some sort of sordid trouble," Santana said, suddenly speaking in her attorney tone of voice.

"You're right girls…let's make some cookies!"

_xxxxx_

Her weekend spent with her two closest friends did wonders for her soul, Quinn felt. It allowed her to re-focus on her writing, show off her house, get her mind off men, and laugh. Santana and Brittany extended their stay until Tuesday. With their help, Quinn had the outline ready to go for her new story and even the first few chapters written. They gave her decorating ideas for the last two bedrooms upstairs and the other full bath...since she had actually been stumped. They decided the bathroom should be done in browns and pinks.

"Like cherry blossoms," Brittany suggested, wrapping her arm around Quinn's shoulders. Quinn thought that was perfect.

They decided one of the bedrooms should be done in greens and the other in pale yellow. Quinn was thankful for their advice and ideas because for as many plans as she had had for so long she still never dreamed she'd have four bedrooms to decorate. So, after the girls left, Quinn spent her time when not writing, in Charleston shopping for unique items for the last three rooms.

She also finally stopped in at Pritchett's Market with the goal of setting up her grocery delivery. She figured the less she was actually _in_ the store, the less the blonde guy would cross her thoughts. And dreams. One morning, she had woke up sweating and in a tizzy over the images still swirling in her head, of her and that guy and the things he had done to her. For some reason, her bed had been located on the pool deck, and she was waiting on the bed for him, in only her black bikini, her skin tanned and glistening in the sun. He walked out of the pool, coming toward her, in a pair of soaking wet blue trunks, water dripping off every part of him, muscles bulging _everywhere_. Just as he crawled upon the bed, slowly to her...she woke up, gasping. She then realized that lying in her own bed, her legs were spread wide open, her t-shirt soaked to her body, her nipples hard. In a way, she wanted to fall back asleep and let the dream continue but no time for that...there was work to be done.

The day she had gone to Pritchett's to set up her grocery delivery service, Sam had not been there to her great relief. Or was it disappointment? She still wasn't sure. She filled out the application, giving her address and gate code, and the day of the week and approximate time she wanted the stuff to be delivered. They copied her credit card and gave her a barcode scanner. She wandered about the store slowly, taking her time, choosing things she thought she'd need weekly. She was over in the fruits and vegetable area, thinking how nice it'd be to have this stuff just delivered to her, when she heard the raised angry voices.

"I said _shut up_, Betsy." Quinn looked over her shoulder and saw Sam practically stomping into the store wearing a blue letterman's jacket with a yellow JI over a white t-shirt and black shorts and high-top sneakers. He headed off behind where Quinn stood to the customer service area.

"You're always at this damn store, Sam Evans, and I'm sick and tired of it!" Betsy, following him, screeched loudly, pouting.

"God, Betsy, I need to pick up my paycheck…you could've waited in the car!"

"I'm _tired_ of waiting, Sam…I'm _always _waiting on you!" Betsy stopped behind him, crossed her arms in front of her, huffing and puffing.

Quinn watched Sam turn to face Betsy. "Well, maybe you should stop waiting then…"

They stared at each other silently for what seemed like hours, then Betsy turned on her heel and stomped back out of the market. Sam exhaled and turned to go into the customer service area. Quinn turned back to the grapes she was examining, then scanned them in.

Sam jogged back out from the customer service desk and glanced over, noticing Quinn. He walked up to her.

"Hi there…uh, girls, you know…" he said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, I know," she replied, thinking _I am a girl!_

"You finding everything okay?"

"Yep, just fine, thanks…you better hurry back to your car," Quinn said, laughing.

"Oh, she'll survive…so how was your visit? With your old friends?" he asked her.

She was more than surprised that he had remembered.

"Fantastic, thanks for asking," she said, glancing up into his eyes that made her heart flutter.

"Cool…well, see ya 'round," he said, waving as he wandered off.

"Bye Sam…" she whispered, watching him go, then turning back to the fruit.

_xxxxx_

A week later, Quinn was at home upstairs, attempting to write, when she heard the front door knocker. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she was a bit curious. She went to her bedroom to check the driveway and saw an old box truck that said "_Pritchett's Grocery Delivery!" _on the side.

"Shit!" she hissed, forgetting about her delivery. She ran downstairs and whipped open the front door.

Sam smiled at her. "I have a delivery for you, ma'am."

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and hanging in there while I get the background set up. :)) My apologies for any blunders...hopefully I do Charleston justice! I'm from Indiana and who wants a story set in Indiana? Blech! Not me! LOL Thanks again! :))**


	5. Hulk

_**Chapter 5~Hulk**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

"Oh, um, hi Sam…uh, I've never really done this before so…" Quinn said, stumbling over her words.

He was there…at her house…on her porch…_with her_…_alone_.

"Well, I just unload your groceries for you, usually in the kitchen…I really like what you've done with the place…the outside anyway…looks a lot better," he said. "I delivered stuff to the Whitakers a lot too."

"Oh, thanks, yeah, uh…well okay!" She was tripping over her words and finally realized she needed to get a grip on the situation. "I'll open up the garage door."

"Okay, cool…" he said, wandering off to the truck.

She stood at the door for a moment, transfixed, watching him. Today, he was in the faded blue jeans and a green t-shirt emblazoned with the Incredible Hulk, his biceps stretching the fabric of the short sleeves. Suddenly, she remembered she needed to be opening her garage door and ran back through the house to hit the button.

He brought in a box of groceries, then returned to the truck and brought in a second box. That was all she had. He brought them into the kitchen and stopped, staring all around.

"Wow…this sure is a change!" he said. "Now, don't get me wrong, I liked the orange stuff…"

"Tangerine is what it was called," Quinn said, giggling.

"Yeah…well this, this is just freakin' awesome!" he said, looking all around. "Oh…sorry."

She was picking items out of one of the boxes to put away. "About what?"

"Um, the word _freakin'_…sorry 'bout that," he said, taking items out of the other box and looking around in the cabinets.

"No…problem…" she said watching him.

"Oh…I used to put stuff up for Missus Whitaker…" he said, stopping and staring at her, his mouth falling open.

Quinn wasn't sure what to do. So, she went with her gut. "Sure, thanks."

She figured she'd move stuff around after he left.

_xxxxx_

She leaned up against the counter opposite from him watching him search around to put up cans and stuff in the fridge. He examined each item as he picked it up before thinking of where to stash it.

His build was exquisite. He was slim yet muscular; she could see his muscles working under his shirt, through his jeans, as he stretched and leaned over. His arms were tanned already; she wondered what other parts of his body were also tanned. She could see his broad shoulders working under the thin cloth of the green t-shirt, and his blonde hair barely touched the collar, curling up a bit at the ends. She watched his hands as he examined items he picked from the box…long fingers, the nails bitten down, some calluses, strong. He stretched up, and his shirt pulled up, exposing white skin above the waist of his jeans and even a bit of his white underwear. Quinn held her breath. She was staring at where the shirt bunched up at his belt buckle when she realized he was speaking to her.

"Oh, uh, I guess these don't belong in the kitchen, right?" he asked her suddenly. She looked down and he was holding a box of Tampax.

"No, they do not," she replied, grabbing the box from him and setting it behind her. She felt her cheeks getting hot.

"So, have you redone the whole house?" he asked her, unfazed by the feminine hygiene products.

She nodded, thankful all eyes were off the tampons.

"Mind giving me a tour?"

She smiled at him. "Not at all, Sam."

She led him into the dining room, and he was in awe.

"This is so much different than how Missus Whitaker had it," he said, looking all around. "The purple carpet rocks!"

She laughed. "Thanks...I like it too."

She showed him the foyer and closed the front door she had left standing open. She then took him into the living room where he was loving the big TV.

"I bet football would be awesome to watch on that screen!"

"I suppose it would be..."

She showed him the downstairs guestroom, which he thought was way better than the old office set-up. They went out onto the deck where the hot tub and pool were still covered.

"It's gorgeous out here..." he said, almost reverently.

"Yeah, it's quiet, peaceful, and..."

"Whoa...your eyes..." he said suddenly. He grabbed her shoulders, holding her steady. He stood in the shade of the deck, she in the sun. He was gazing down very intently into her eyes.

"They change colors, like in the sun...they're green now...wow..." he mumbled, still staring at her. "They're, like, _magical_."

He said that with such conviction and was looking at her so seriously she nearly giggled. Instead, she turned her face up to his. _Perfect time to just lay one on him_, she thought, but then looked back at her feet, blushing.

"Thank you...no one's really ever noticed my eyes before," she said quietly.

"They're very pretty," he said back to her, in a soft deep voice.

There was an awkward silence, then Sam said, "When are you openin' your pool? It's time, ya know."

She looked over her shoulder at the pool. "I really haven't given it too much thought yet..."

"My and my buddies could open it for you...I think this pool is heated so the water won't be too cold at first," he told her, dropping his hands to his sides.

She stood there, like a statue, wanting the warmth of his hands on her again.

"Um, yeah, sure, that'd be great...this weekend?"

"Should be able to come over Saturday morning, like, before I go to work. Call the pool supply place and have them drop off the chemicals you'll need. They'll know what you need...tell 'em it's the old Whitaker place," he said to her. "So, have you done the upstairs too?"

"Yeah, you wanna see it?"

"Well, yeah!"

As she took him upstairs, she explained that a couple rooms weren't completely finished. He didn't hear a word she said; he was too involved in staring at her ass. That day, she wore a pair of pink shorts and a simple pretty white top, her hair down. She was barefoot, and he couldn't help noticing her pink toenails. And, causing him to gulp quietly, he had a quick flash of the edge of white panties.

"...so my friends talked me into these colors," she was saying as they reached the landing. She turned to face him and realized what exactly he had been paying attention to. He quickly averted his eyes to hers.

"Uh, yeah, cool, so they helped ya out," he mumbled, totally lost in the conversation.

She laughed a bit. She wasn't blind or dumb.

She showed him the two spare bedrooms, still being worked on; avoided her office since she didn't want her pen name to be given away, even to a teen boy.

"You know what the green room needs?" he asked her.

"No…tell me…"

"A splash of purple!"

"Really?" she asked, intrigued. "Why purple?"

He pulled out at his shirt, pointing at the purple torn shorts that the Hulk had on.

He laughed at his suggestion. "It was just an idea…you seem to like purple…"

"Not a bad idea…I'll consider it…" she replied, laughing with him.

She led the way into her master suite.

"Holy wow...this is unbelievably siiiick..." he said, sounding every bit a teenager. He went to the windows overlooking the ocean and stared out for a bit.

"So, you, like, live here all alone?" he asked her, turning around to take in more of her room.

"Yep. And I absolutely love it," she replied, proud of her home. She couldn't help to notice how perfect he looked standing in her bedroom, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"I bet! Don't ya ever get, like, lonely?" he asked. "I mean, I live with my parents and kid brother and sister and it's never quiet around there."

She considered his question. "No, not lonely. I have a lot to keep me busy."

"Like your decorating! Is that your job?"

She laughed genuinely. "Oh no, I'm a writer."

His eyes got big. "Really? Totally cool!"

"Yeah, it pays the bills…nothing you'd enjoy though, boring textbook stuff," she lied a little.

"I don't really read too much…I'm dyslexic…Mr. Pritch is forever getting on me about misspelling words on signs but the customers are cool about it," he said.

He took a couple steps toward her. "I probably should, uh, get back to more drop-offs."

She realized he had no sense of personal space because he was all up in hers, looking down at her.

"Damn, your eyes are _gorgeous_…" he muttered, brushing her bangs over slightly.

His touch made her shiver. So badly she wanted to whisper _yours too_ but she didn't. _He's just a kid!_

"So…Saturday then? About 9-ish?" she said, stepping back from him.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah…the pool…we'll be here."

Her voice was soft. "'Kay…"

"Okay…" he said, leading the way out of her room.

_xxxxx_

After Sam left, Quinn found the number to the pool supply place on the island and called them to make sure the chemicals and whatever was needed would be delivered before Saturday. She had been literally shaking after he left her house…she had never had that kind of reaction around a man…a _guy_…before. There was definitely something there, and she was pretty sure he felt it too.

The next day, her pool supplies were delivered. And the day after that, Sam returned a little after 9 a.m. with two of his buddies.

"This is Mike and Artie," he introduced to Quinn. One a tall Asian and the other boy in a wheelchair. He introduced her as "Missus Fabray."

"Hi guys…really, you can call me Quinn…please," she said.

"I'm the one who tells them how to do this," Artie, the kid in the wheelchair, said, shaking her hand.

"Ah, the supervisor, very good then," she said. "The pool stuff is out on the deck. If you don't mind, maybe I could watch and learn?"

It was the best decision she'd made all week.

The tall boy approached her hesitantly.

"Is it okay if my girlfriend drops by? She lives here in Paradise. If it's not okay, I'll call her," he said shyly.

"No, Mike, that's fine...I'd like the company actually," Quinn told him. He smiled.

The boys were already in their swim trunks and old t-shirts. Sam and Mike worked on getting the filter and pump motor turned on plus the heater, then worked on removing the cover to see how the water looked. Quinn sat on the pool deck with Artie, watching the going's on.

"So, have you all been friends a long time?" Quinn asked him.

"The last year, since Sam moved here," Artie replied. "Mike and I have been friends since first grade."

Quinn watched Sam working in the sunlight. She wondered how long it'd be before he stripped off his shirt.

"So, Sam isn't from around here? I'm not either," she said.

"Really? You kinda have the accent," Artie replied, laughing. "Um, Tennessee...I think he came from Tennessee. Where were you before?"

"I grew up in Ohio...a little town called Lima...like the bean," Quinn said, laughing at the face Artie made.

Mike ran up to them. "Tina just called; she's in the driveway. Are you sure you're okay..."

"It's totally fine..." Quinn told him.

Mike returned with an Asian girl who was about Quinn's height with blue streaks in her long raven hair. She had on shorts and a t-shirt, typical teen attire, much like Quinn was dressed, and she carried in her hands her phone and a worn paperback book. Mike introduced them.

"Missus Fabray, this is my friend Tina Chang..."

"Pleased to meet you but, please, call me Quinn! 'Missus Fabray' makes me sound so old and I'm not!" Quinn laughed. "Have a seat, Tina."

Tina thanked her, said hello to the other boys, and sat down on Quinn's other side.

"Are you an avid reader?" Quinn asked her, eying the book.

"Yes! Especially of this series! _The Unholy Trinity_...have you heard of it?" Tina asked her excitedly, holding up a book that Quinn was very familiar with, _The Unholy Trinity, Book #4, Leading Not Following_.

"No...but I've met the author before...I write also..." Quinn said, smiling. "What do you think of his books?"

"Oh my god, I love them! I've read them all so far and now I'm reading them again. I freakin' _love _Kelley! She is so strong and loyal...even if she is mean sometimes...and her friends are the best..." Tina gushed.

It was the story of how her cheerleading coach coerced her, Sophia, and Brentley into joining the school's Glee Club to be spies.

_Whew boy, those were the days_, she thought to herself.

"Do you mind if I...?" she asked Tina.

"Not at all...sorry it's such a mess...me and my friends pass it around and make notes in it and stuff," Tina told her, passing her the book.

Mike and Sam came over to them and asked Artie what they should do next. Artie rolled around the pool to take a look.

"Oh, Betsy reads all those stories," Sam said offhandedly. He laughed a bit. "I asked her if I could read one but she told me I read too slow...I'd never get it finished and I wouldn't understand anything in it."

Quinn was somewhat astonished by this but kept her surprised look to herself.

"Why do you put up with her, Sam? She treats you like shi-crap-all the time! You deserve so much better," Tina said, suddenly animated.

Quinn glanced up at Sam, her face mostly hidden behind the book, and saw what looked like resignation, sadness, embarrassment in his eyes. He shook it off quickly though and to her utter amazement pulled off his t-shirt. He stood before her in a pair of silver basketball shorts, slipping low on his hips, with the black waistband of his boxers peeking out.

_Sweet jesus_, she thought, staring at his hip bones and bellybutton, her eyes roaming upward to his bare chest, then back downward...

Tina squealed. Mike stripped off his t-shirt, as well.

_Where do they grow these guys?_ Quinn thought. Both Sam and Mike had well-defined musculature. _They must be in the gym 18 hours a day!_

"Hey dudes, you can probably start vacuuming and skimming," Artie hollered at Sam and Mike.

Sam glanced down at Quinn and smiled and took off to get the vacuum from Artie. Mike pecked Tina on the cheek and followed Sam.

"So, his girlfriend really says that to him? To his _face_?" Quinn asked Tina. She handed her the book.

"Oh yeah…she's a real witch. She's always griping at him because he works so much but Saturday nights are her nights out with the Pom Poms and even today she's out with the girls, instead of hanging with him here," Tina said, rolling her eyes. "Obviously, I don't get along with her."

"Pom Poms?" Quinn asked.

"The cheerleaders…like the Cheerios in this story," Tina said, holding up the book.

"Ahhh," Quinn said, knowingly. "Sam seems like a really sweet guy."

"He is...but she treats everyone like shi-uh" Tina stopped in the middle of the swear word.

Quinn waved her off. "Go ahead. It's nothing I haven't heard or said before."

Tina lowered her voice though. "She treats everyone like shit." She glanced over at Sam. "And he doesn't deserve it."

Quinn didn't say anything else, just watched the guys mess with her pool. They said the water didn't look that bad, just a bit green. They vacuumed and skimmed and added water and some of the chemicals. Around noon, she went inside and returned with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses for them all.

"I can't add the shock stuff until the sun goes down…" Sam said to her, sipping the cool drink.

"Oh, just tell me what to do and I can add it later on…"

"I'm not gonna have you finishing my job for me!" he said. "Maybe I can drop by when my shift is over? You can turn on the lights out here and I'll dump the stuff in. I don't want you getting chlorine on your nice skin."

She smiled. "Sure…about what time?"

"I should be done around 11-ish, if that's okay? It's not too late, is it?"

"That's fine, Sam. Thank you so much for helping out today. How much do I owe you and Mike and Artie?" she asked him.

He looked at her, genuinely shocked. "Uh, nothing! I offered to help out…I don't expect to be paid!"

She decided not to argue with him.

He changed for work there at her house, then loaded up Artie to take him home and Mike left with Tina.

_xxxxx_

At a little after 11, Sam showed up and knocked on her door. She let him in and they walked through the house to the pool. She had the lights on already.

"How was the market tonight?" she asked him.

"Busy…then Betsy came in and told me she found her prom dress. I guess I have to find a black tux and yellow thing…I said 'are we going as bees?' and she didn't find that too funny," he said, laughing.

Quinn smiled. "Yellow is a nice color…I'm sure you two will make a stunning couple."

He opened the bottles of pool shock and started walking around the pool, pouring the stuff in.

"Yeah, I suppose…" he said quietly.

She sat watching him. He added the chemicals and then sat down with her.

"It should be clear in the morning…swim ready!" he said, smiling.

"I do appreciate your help, Sam. You and your friends can come swim as long as I'm here," she offered.

"Cool, thanks."

"Also, if you want, maybe I could help you with your dyslexia…I just finished up my graduate degree in writing and all I do is write now…I wouldn't mind tutoring you," she said.

"Maybe when school starts up in the fall…I could probably use help then," he said, standing up and yawning. "I better get home…church in the morning."

She stood up, as well.

"Thanks again," she said, lightly placing a hand on his upper arm.

There was an awkward silence. He looked from her hand to her eyes.

"I didn't mind at all, Quinn," he said with the sweetest hint of a smile.

He left and she realized he finally called her by her given name.


	6. Going Slow

_**Chapter 6~Going Slow**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Sam was right…the pool was ready for swimming the next day so Quinn took advantage of that. And the day after that, and the day after that. It had been a few days since she had seen him. She had liked seeing him on that Saturday. A different guy delivered her groceries the next week and left them sitting on her porch. She carried them inside and put them away.

A week or so after opening her pool, she was laying out in a new black bikini. It had a halter top with a silver ring between her breasts and a silver ring on each hip. Her tan was coming along nicely; she had oiled herself up good that day, anticipating the sun and no clouds.

It was so quiet next to the pool, just the sound of the filter purring and the breeze every once in awhile. She lay on her back, shades on, one knee drawn up, her hands hanging off the arms of the lounge, dozing off. Out of the blue, she heard an _ahem_.

She sprung up and saw Sam standing, peeking over the gate. She skipped over to the gate to let him in.

"Enjoying the pool?" he asked her.

"Very much so…is it grocery delivery day? I totally forgot!" she said, embarrassed. He wore a Batman t-shirt and gray basketball shorts.

"Yep, I've got all your stuff…"

"Great, I'll open the garage then…" she told him. She waited for him in the kitchen.

He brought in two boxes of stuff; she took one and he took one and they began putting things away. Her back was to him and his to her; he was whistling. She had a glass jar of organic peanut butter and was stretching to put it in the very top cabinet.

"I try to hide this away at the top to keep myself away from eating it all the time…oh!" The jar was slipping from her fingertips.

He looked over his shoulder at her and then ran around the island to help her.

From behind her, he reached up to take control of the peanut butter. His free hand wrapped around her back and landed on the counter in front of her bare belly. They both struggled to push the jar up into the cabinet and it was then that she realized his thumb was rubbing her belly. She kind of gasped a bit.

He must've realized it too because as he lowered himself from his tiptoes and lowered his other arm slowly he let his hand palm her belly and he gently pushed their bodies together. She could feel his hot breath on her neck…she knew he must be _thisclose_ to kissing her there. And then she felt it…the poking at her upper thigh. She looked back at him; his breathing was shallow, his lips parted, his long black eyelashes flush against his cheek, staring at her neck. His eyes flickered up to hers.

"Um…" he mumbled and scurried back to his side of the kitchen, keeping his back to her. "I'm so sorry, Missus Fabray."

She walked over to him and touched his shoulder, turning him to face her. He was gripping the edge of his t-shirt, pulling it down in front of his obvious boner.

"It's okay, Sam…" She pushed up on her tiptoes and lightly kissed him on the cheek, lingering there probably a moment longer than necessary. She slid her hand from his shoulder up to the back of his neck, curling her fingers in his hair. Slowly, he turned his face to meet her lips with his but only just barely.

"I-I probably shouldn't…I prob'ly need to get back to the store…" he mumbled, staring at his shoes.

"I understand, Sam…" she said quietly, though desperately wanting to kiss him again.

He hurriedly finished putting away her groceries and left quickly.

_xxxxx_

"You kissed him?" Santana shrieked into the phone. "_You…kissed…him_?"

"Ugh, San, it just happened out of the blue! He touched me first…he even had a…a _boner_!"

Santana groaned.

"Q, that still doesn't make it right…he's 17. Just watch your step from now on, okay? You know I can't represent you down there," Santana told her.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it…" Quinn sighed. She said her goodbyes, then hung up.

She needed to tell _someone_ about what happened. She was just as freaked out as Sam, if not more.

Of course, she didn't see him for quite some time after that little incident. Someone else delivered her groceries and she avoided the market. He was too young, he had a girlfriend…it was just out of the question. She busied herself with her writing to get him out of her head.

_xxxxx_

About 3 weeks after The Kiss, as Quinn thought of it, she was sitting home on a Saturday night, taking a break from writing and sitting in her living room, flipping channels but not finding anything to bore her to sleep. So, she cracked open a wine cooler and wandered out to her front porch to watch the ocean in the moonlight.

She pushed herself back and forth on the porch swing in the dark, watching the tide roll in, then back out. She soon closed her eyes and relived the day in the kitchen with Sam, how he pressed into her, his breath on her neck, how aroused she had become in just those few short moments.

A swath of light swept over her, and the low rumble of the engine cut out. She opened her eyes, looking at the beat-up car in her driveway. She stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, her long white sundress swishing about her ankles.

She could see him sitting behind the wheel of the old Chevelle. He finally stepped out of it and shut the door quietly. He walked up to the porch and literally jumped when he realized she was standing there in the dark.

"Quinn…" he said. "Hi there…"

"Hi Sam…what brings you here?" She could tell in the moonlight that his hair was spiked up, and he wore a suit with a bright yellow bowtie and cummerbund. _Prom was tonight_, she thought.

"Um…" He fiddled with his keys in his hands. "I-I, uh, didn't know where else to go…" He finally shoved the keys in his pocket, along with his hands.

"Are you okay?"

He paused. "Betsy and I kinda broke up tonight."

_xxxxx_

She told him to kick off his shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs while she went inside her house and grabbed an old blanket and her house keys. She came back to the front porch and locked up the house. He had taken off his jacket and cummerbund and his tie was now just draped over his neck.

"C'mon," she said, going down the porch steps and across the street to the beach access. He followed her.

She picked out a random spot and spread out the blanket and sat down. He sat down with her, drawing his knees up to his chest.

She sat there quietly, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, leaning on her elbows, waiting for him to talk, listening to the sound of the Atlantic for some time.

"She had been riding me the last couple weeks about the stupid tux issue…she was pissed 'cause I wouldn't rent one and was just gonna wear my dad's suit and borrow the tie and belt thing…I'm saving all my money from working at the market for college and she just can't understand that," he finally spilled. "Tonight, I picked her up and she's not even talking to me and then at the dance she started making rude comments about the suit and not renting a decent tux. At the end of the dance, we were supposed to go to some stupid Pom Pom party but I just took her home. I told her it wasn't gonna work out with us and she'd need to find her own way to the party."

"Maybe you two just need a break…sometimes that helps," Quinn offered.

"A break won't help this…there's something-_someone_-else…" he said quietly, watching the tide roll in and back out.

She felt him shyly reach out and touch her hand.

"I can't get you outta my mind, Quinn," he continued, curling his fingers around hers. "I think about you every day, every night, the day we kissed in your kitchen…I can't stop thinking about you…"

The feel of his thumb rubbing her skin caused a shiver to creep up her arm. She sat up slowly and faced him.

"I like you, Sam, and I want us to be friends…" she started. Honestly, she was shocked that he told her had broken up with his girlfriend.

"I want that too!" he gushed.

_Hey, I just met you  
And this is crazy  
But here's my number  
So call me maybe?_

The chorus of the popular song rang out from Sam's pants pocket.

"Oh shit…" he mumbled, reaching in his pocket to turn it off.

"And you'll need to deal with her before we can be _friends _friends," Quinn said, letting go of his hand and standing up.

He scrambled to stand up and caught Quinn's arm.

"I have dealt with that…with her…" he said, an edge of begging in his voice. "I'll prove it to you…please…"

She stopped and he took a couple hesitant steps toward her. He held her arms, gazing down at her.

"I'm not like the other guys…I know I'm younger than you…there's just something…I _felt _something the other day…and I don't wanna let you go…"

She returned his gaze silently.

"Since the day I squashed your bread at the market…I haven't stopped thinking about you…" he whispered to her, pulling her to him gently, leaning in to kiss her.

She stopped him by pressing her hands against his chest…_oh god, his chest_.

"Let's be friends first, okay?" Even though she was dying to press her lips to his.

Instead, she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek, feeling his jaw clench under her lips.

"Can I come see you tomorrow then?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes…I'd like that, Sam."

_xxxxx_

Sam returned the next day a little before noon, his backpack over one shoulder and a bag of groceries on his hip. He wore shorts and a Spiderman t-shirt. Quinn was dressed casually, as well, in shorts and a Yale polo, her hair in a ponytail.

"Um, if you're hungry I thought I could make us lunch?" he asked at her door, a sheepish smile playing at his lips.

"I haven't had lunch yet. Come in..."

He dropped his backpack by the front door, and, in the kitchen, began taking items out of the grocery sack while Quinn watched, amused.

"My specialty is grilled cheese with bacon..." he told her.

_Oh my god, bacon! How'd he know? _she thought, smiling at him.

"But not just any ol' grilled cheese...I've perfected it, I think," he told her.

"Do tell..."

"Well, a couple years ago, my parents wound up homeless..."

"Oh my god..."

"Yeah...it was a kinda rough time. So, I had to cook for my kid sister and brother while our parents were looking for work. At first, my grilled cheese was the cheapest cheese we could find, cheapest butter, cheapest _everything_. Then, my dad found work...here in Charleston...so we moved here and we could afford halfway decent food again. I got my job at the market and saw all those gourmet cheeses and breads so I just started messin' around with them every couple weeks and finally made one that was pretty good. Italian bread, real butter, super sharp cheddar and gouda, and thick-cut bacon...I hope you like it."

"Sounds delish!"

"To even out all the fat in a grilled cheese I also brought salad stuff," he told her, setting the stuff on the island. She stood up to stand next to him, close enough she could feel the hair on his arm brush her arm.

"I can make the salads," she said, glancing up at him.

"Awesome..."

Sam went to the sink and washed his hands; Quinn followed suit, then pulled out a skillet and a big bowl and a cutting board.

"I noticed you brought your backpack..." she said to him.

"If the offer still stands, about the tutoring...I thought maybe we could work on my English homework?" he asked her. "We're reading _The Scarlet Letter_."

"Ah, Hester Prynne..." Quinn said, recalling the novel.

He laughed a little. "Yeah...we're about halfway through it and since you said you could maybe help me out..."

"Sure...I'd love to...I love the story..." she said to him. "Romantic yet sad, tragic..."

She put on some eggs to boil for their salads and began chopping up green peppers and tomatoes and onions. He started frying some bacon.

"I'm just trying to keep all the people straight...they have the weirdest names..._Hester?_ _Dimmesdale?_ _Chillingworth?_ What's wrong with a simple Samuel or Mary?" he said, laughing.

She shrugged. "It was just the time it was written, I guess. The imagination is a wonderful place." She should know...she wrote fictitious stuff daily.

"I think I've got it figured out already...I know who Hester's lover was," he said, casting a sidelong glance at Quinn.

"Oh, you do, do you?" She was tossing their salad together and then decided to make up an oil and vinegar dressing for it. She dug around in her refrigerator and found some raspberries and began mixing up a raspberry vinaigrette.

"Yeah...definitely not the old guy...I'm guessing the minister. The dude's full of guilt," Sam said, putting the bacon on paper towels to drain off some the grease.

"You'll have to read the entire story..." she said, teasing.

"Read it with me?" he asked, sliding up behind her, resting a hand on her hip. His breath tickled the strands of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail.

"Yes..." she said softly, drawing the word out.

He backed away from her. "Can I show you something?"

"Sure..."

He took his phone out of his shorts pocket and scrolled the screen a bit, then turned and handed it to her.

The text message was from Tina, from the night before. It was a picture of the tiny dark-headed girl in a bright yellow dress, in the arms of a tall-dark headed boy, their lips smashed together. All Tina had written was _I'm sorry, Sam_.

"She's already moved on...I moved on a few weeks ago...but just got the balls last night to tell her..." he said quietly. He took his phone back and began working on their grilled cheese while she finished tossing the salad.

She gave it a few minutes, then walked over to him at the stove where he was flipping their sandwiches. She put her hand on his arm lightly.

"Let's just take it slow, okay?" she said. She leaned in and kissed his neck, inhaling his scent...soap, aftershave, guy.

_xxxxx_

While the sandwiches finished grilling, Quinn ran upstairs to her office to retrieve her own worn copy of _The Scarlet Letter_.

They sat on the back patio to eat lunch and read to one another.

Quinn read first, mainly to put Sam at ease as he was fidgety with his worn copy of the book. They started with chapter 17, The Pastor and His Parishioner. Quinn read the first half, slowly, allowing Sam to follow along.

Before he read, he commented, "At least Hester finally got to talk to the minister privately. It sounds like he was torturing himself."

"Yes, he was..." she said.

"Ya know what? My teacher asked us why we thought Hester stayed there when she could've left...I think she stayed to torture the minister, in a way, to remind him of his sin," Sam said. "Every time he'd see Pearl, it'd be a physical reminder."

Quinn was impressed by his deduction. "Possibly. Maybe it was her way of striking out...she had to cope with the public shunning, knowing the minister could never confess to his sin. I think, though, once she saw how he was torturing himself, and possibly Chillingworth, maybe it was more she stuck around to be near her one true love."

"Oh yeah...that sounds even better...that Chillingworth dude is totally evil," Sam said, glancing up at her. "What'd'ya think of the sammie?"

She giggled a bit. "Scrumptious...your turn..."

He found his place and slowly began to read:

_Hester Prynne__ looked into his face, but hesitated to speak. Yet, uttering his long-restrained emotions so vehemently__as he did, his words here offered her the very point of circumstances in which to interpose what she came to say. She conquered her fears, and spoke._

_"Such __a __friend as thou hast even now wished for," said she, "with whom to weep over thy sin, thou hast in me, the partner of it!"-Again she hesitated, but brought out the words with an effort.-"Thou hast long had such an enemy, and dwellest with him under the same roof!"_

He stumbled over _vehemently_...so many e's, the h, the m, the n...and then all the w's right in a row slowed him down. He paused.

"It's tough..." he said to Quinn. Instead of continuing to sit across from him, she moved over to sit next to him.

"You're doing fine...continue..."

He read through Hester's confession of her husband being Chillingworth and Dimmesdale's aggravated response, with Quinn helping here and there with more complicated words.

"So...is he jealous?" Sam asked. "Or is he mad because she had not told him the secret or mad because she was married in the first place?"

"Arthur blames Hester for his suffering..." Quinn said.

"Really?" Sam asked, shocked. "How dare he..."

Quinn concealed the slightest smiles and listened to the beautiful boy's voice continue reading:

_"Never, never! whispered she. "What we did had a consecration of its own. We felt it so! We said so to each other! Hast thou forgotten it?"_

_"Hush, Hester!" __said Arthur Dimmesdale, rising from the ground. "No; I have not forgotten!"_

_They sat down again, side by side, and hand clasped in hand, on the mossy trunk of the fallen tree. Life had never brought them a gloomier hour; it was the point whither their pathway had so long been tending, and darkening ever, as it stole along;-and yet it inclosed a charm that made them linger upon it, and claim another, and another, and, after all, another moment. The forest was obscure around them, and creaked with a blast that was passing through it. The boughs were tossing heavily above their heads; while one solemn old tree groaned dolefully to another, as if telling the sad story of the pair that sat beneath, or constrained to forbode evil to come._

_And yet they lingered. How dreary looked the forest-track that led backward to the settlement, where Hester Prynne must take up again the burden of her ignominy, and the minister the hollow mockery of his good name! So they lingered an instant longer. No golden light had ever been so precious as the gloom of this dark forest. Here, seen only by his eyes, the scarlet letter need not burn into the bosom of the fallen woman! Here, seen only by her eyes, Arthur Dimmesdale, false to God and man, might be, for one moment, true!_"

It's kinda nice that they are together..." Sam said, taking a break. He looked at her, hopeful.

"Only in the forest, though, never in public..."

He finished the chapter.

"So...they're running away together?" he asked. "To get away from that society?"

"That's their plan...you'll have to read the book to see if it actually happens or not. Your reading is really okay, Sam. When you're struggling, try slowing down and thinking about the word that's giving you fits."

"Can I have your number?"

"My number?" she asked him, blushing a little. It had been quite some time since someone had asked for her number.

"Yeah...you have a cell phone, right?"

"Um, yeah..."

He picked up his phone from the table. "My mom insisted I text her wherever I'm going, ya know, so they got me a decent phone." He opened his contacts and waited for her to give him her phone number.

She did.

"Cool, I just texted you so you have my number now," he said. "Now...can I kiss you?"

She was pretty sure she had never been asked to be kissed, but she leaned in close to him. She was all too aware of his warm lips on hers, barely touching, then the bump of his knee against hers as he turned to face her better, his thumb caressing her thigh. She felt herself drowning, sinking, in his kiss and was on the verge of deepening it when she pulled back suddenly, a bit breathless. _Slow, Quinn, slow_, she thought.

"Swim. Let's go for a swim," she said. She knew, deep in her soul, if the kiss continued, it would continue upstairs in her bedroom.

He smiled a little, as if he knew how she was feeling. "Good thing I brought my trunks..." He pulled them from his backpack while she ran inside to change.

She reappeared in a dark green bikini and slipped into the pool where Sam was already waiting.

"The water feels terrific..." she said, gliding around him.

Seeing all his bare skin, minus the part covered by his navy blue trunks, made her reconsider whether swimming was such a great idea or not.

He was playful in the water...picking her up, threatening to toss her over his shoulder, causing her to shriek with frightened delight and laughter. She found herself resting her hands on his broad shoulders, squinting at him in the sunlight, kissing his jaw where a thin line of water ran from his forehead. The stubble on his face tickled her lips and she realized he shaved, even though he appeared young.

Somewhat instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist and she brought her legs up around his hips, unable to stop herself. He had a shocked...or maybe scared...expression on his face then but continued holding her against him.

"Sam?" she asked, running a finger down the bridge of his nose.

"Mhmm..."

"How long 'til you turn 18?"

He cleared his throat. "August..."

He nipped at her earlobe. "You know what? I think I need to cool off..."

He pulled both of them underwater, where he kissed her once more.

**A/N: If I screwed up _The Scarlet Letter_ interpretation, my apologies in advance. Any suggestions on what book Sam should read during his senior year?! Something that Quinn can help him with? Hope you enjoyed the advancement in their budding relationship!**


	7. Forever

_**Chapter 7~Forever**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

After swapping numbers, Sam would text her during the day to ask if he could come over after work...to work on _The Scarlet Letter_, of course. She helped him finish the novel while getting to know him better.

He loved the movie Avatar and anything remotely related to super heroes. He had a little brother Stevie, age 10, and a little sister, Stacy, age 9, both surprises in his family. He hated having to move from Tennessee to South Carolina but was liking it better. He liked playing video games and wondered if he could get a job in that industry once out of high school. He understood computers but reading was his bane. His hair wasn't naturally so blonde...with the help of the sun and lemon juice he brought out the highlights. He couldn't dance to save his soul but loved to sing, only in the shower. Mike and Artie were his best friends in Charleston. He loved to swim, play football and basketball and baseball, and just generally be outside. Being homeless for a year was the scariest thing he had ever been through. It gave him a newfound respect for his parents and their hard work, which was why he was saving all he could to go to college. He longed to own a dog and a better car. He liked to work out and stare at the stars. He went to James Island Charter School and was finishing his junior year.

The days passed quickly as his school year ended. Most days, Quinn would work on her writing, then help Sam at night. By helping him, they usually were chatting on the front porch, on the beach, on the pool deck, sometimes curled up on the couch, sometimes kissing. When he finally finished _The Scarlet Letter_, Quinn rented the movie for them to watch together. She popped popcorn while he blended them smoothies. He had had school that day, then worked, so by the time they curled up on her couch together and started the flick it was already 9:30.

In a drowsy state, Quinn realized she was curled up next to Sam, both stretched out on her couch. Her head rested on his chest, and she listened to the rhythmic _bum-bum_ of his heartbeat until she herself had fallen asleep.

At midnight, they both awoke to his phone ringing on the floor. _Somewhere Over The Rainbow _broke the silence of the room, the movie over for some time. Sam, still half-asleep, reached down to pick it up, realizing the warm weight resting on him was Quinn.

"Crap...that's my mom..." he mumbled, realizing who the ringtone belonged to. Quinn heard his voice and sat up a bit. He cleared his throat and answered the call.

"Hey mom…yeah, I know what time it is…sorry…Mike and I were playin' this new game on his Wii and…yeah, I'll be right home…" He clicked _end _and rubbed his face. "Whew…she was more than pissed…"

"I bet…" Quinn said, her voice still rough with sleep.

She helped him get his books back in his backpack and kissed him goodbye at her door. Upstairs, burrowed in her bed alone, she replayed Sam's conversation with his mother in her mind. He had to lie about where he was. She had yet to "meet the parents." What exactly was the nature of her and Sam's relationship?

She tossed and turned before finally falling back to sleep.

_xxxxx_

The next day, Sam sent Quinn a text message telling her his mom had grounded him for the rest of the week for breaking curfew but he'd try to stop by after work if he could. Also, Friday night was out because he had "an awards thing" at school that evening.

_An awards thing at school…hmm…_she thought, drumming her fingers on her desk.

On Friday, she dressed in her favorite sundress and sandals and set off for James Island Charter School Junior Class Award Ceremony.

She had been to the school before, for community meetings and a carnival or two, so she found her way to the auditorium easily enough. She found a seat near the back, not wanting to stand out.

She watched the junior class file on stage and finally picked out Sam. He wore black slacks and a crisp long-sleeved white shirt with a black tie. His normally askew blonde hair was slicked back. He was smiling and sat with his friends Mike and Artie and Tina.

Quinn watched from the shadows as Sam's classmates were called to receive awards for things like the valedictorian and salutatorian of their class, she guessed in an effort to prepare them for graduation. Then, the next eight students with the best grade point averages were awarded. Sports award were handed out. Perfect attendance awards, specific subject awards, specific clubs. Finally, toward the end of the ceremony, just as Quinn was about to nod off, they awarded the Most Improved Student in different subjects. Sam Evans was awarded Most Improved in Language Arts. Quinn sat upright when she heard his name and applauded politely with the audience.

He had a cheesy smile on his face when accepting the award, probably for the benefit of his classmates, but Quinn was damn proud of him and his hard work.

Thankfully, the ceremony was ending so Quinn slipped out before the crowd into the main hallway and watched for Sam to emerge. She watched adults and teens file by, talking and laughing, and finally saw her blonde guy. He walked with two young kids and two adults, his family Quinn assumed, them remarking over his certificate, asking how he did it. Another woman caught up with them, stopping them near Quinn, and apparently it was Sam's English teacher. She was gushing over Sam's improvement in the last 6 weeks of school and how well he had done with _The Scarlet Letter_, thus earning him the Most Improved award. Since his parents were preoccupied with his teacher, Quinn attempted to get Sam's attention.

"Psst...Sam..." she hissed as quietly as possible. He looked this way and that, obviously picking up on her sound. "_Sam!_" she whispered once more.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a flash of a pink dress, blonde hair, and sparkles. At first, she thought he wouldn't recognize her in the shadows but then his eyes got big and his mouth formed an O. She saw him whisper to his dad, then he slipped over to where she was.

"You came! How'd you know?" he asked, pulling her deeper into the shadows. "Oh my god...I've missed you..."

He didn't wait for answer, just pressed up against her and kissed her hard. This was a lot different than their previous chaste kissing...more passion, like he was ravenous for her. He took her breath away.

"I-I...just had to...to see you, Sam..." she uttered, letting him pull her closer to his body. He inhaled deeply.

"You're beautiful, Quinn...it's been a long, long week..." he whispered, his hands gripping her waist, her hands latched onto his shoulders. She could feel his muscles ripple under the thin fabric. He nipped her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth; she arched her back into him, letting her head fall back. She felt his hands slipping around her...lower...lower...lower...

"Sam!" a male voice boomed.

They both jerked apart. His dad was wandering around, mumbling _where'd that kid go?_

Sam looked back to Quinn. "Tomorrow night? They're ungrounding me because of this award..."

"Yes...tomorrow night..."

Sam kissed her quickly once more and then wandered back to his family while Quinn could barely walk out of the auditorium on her weak knees.

_xxxxx_

Once she got home and took a quick swim, she was relaxing on the front porch and texting Santana.

_He's only 17, San!_

_I did you a solid…ur not breaking any laws._

_What? Call me!_

Quinn waited for the Pink ringtone to come on and hit _enter_ immediately.

"What do you mean?" Quinn said as soon as she held the phone to her ear.

"I did a little research and you and loverboy aren't breaking any laws in your lovely state," Santana told her.

Quinn let that sink in.

"And I stress the word _boy_," Santana continued.

Quinn sighed. "It's awful because he can't tell his parents or anyone else about me." She laughed wryly. "And I think he's _The One_."

If there had been a vinyl record playing in the background, there surely would've been a screech from the needle being yanked off it.

The pregnant pause lingered on the other end and then, "Quinn. Get a grip! He's a rebound from Jim. Enjoy him and then move on. You've got a life of your own; this kid still lives with his parents. Hell, he was _grounded_! There has to be many, many, _many _available men there for you to choose from."

In the background, Quinn heard Brittany ask Santana if that meant Sam was safe from an electrical shock.

"He's so different, San, even more so than the guys our age. Yeah, he's young but he's been through a lot. He works hard in school and after school, trying to better himself." Quinn sighed again. She didn't like that she was trying to talk herself out of something with Sam but realistically? It made sense.

"Wait. Have you done the deed with this _boy_?"

"No...I haven't even touched or seen his wang, Santana!"

"Does he have one?"

They both burst into giggles.

"Okay, yes, I've _felt _it...poking into me...sometimes..."

"What if he's a virgin?"

"I don't know...he's almost 18..."

"Quinn, I love you...I don't want to see you get hurt again, especially by some infant!" Santana said, her concern crossing the wires and miles between them.

Quinn stared out at the expanse of the ocean while rocking on her porch. "I won't get hurt, San. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

Going into her large home sitting on the edge of a huge ocean, she didn't feel like such a big girl.

Her phone began playing "Love You Like a Love Song" by Selena Gomez...Sam was texting her. She had only given him that ringtone since she overheard him singing it one day when he thought she hadn't been listening. He had been working out on the beach in front of her house, in nothing but shorts and his iPod. She had been entranced by his voice that day, even more so than before.

_I can't stop thinking abt u _his text read.

Before she could reply, he sent another one: _U tasted increbidle_

Then it hit her...he was _sexting _her, or attempting to. She could play this game.

_U felt good under my hands _she sent him.

_I want more of u...soon _he said.

_how do u feel now?_

After a pause, she received a one-word reply: _hard_

She bit her lip, thinking of a reply. He beat her to it again. _How u feel?_

She definitely knew her answer to that: _wet_

Selena Gomez played on her phone. He was calling her.

"Sam?" she whispered.

"Talk me through it…I've never done this before…" he nearly gasped, his breath hitching on his words.

She immediately began describing what she'd do if she were with him at that second.

"I'd wrap my hand around you, feel your heat, and stroke you slowly, then faster…my lips would touch every inch of your body…"

His breathing was heavy in her ear; she was getting turned on listening to him, knowing he was masturbating to her voice.

"I wanted to touch you tonight when I saw you…I wanted to jerk you off…"

He moaned into the phone.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow…I need to taste you, Sam…"

"God Qui-_unnnffff_…" He grunted quietly when he came, panting her name.

By this time, her fingers had found her swollen flesh beneath her panties, her eyes were closed, picturing Sam lying on his bed, his hand wrapped around himself, covered in his jizz, his chest and belly heaving up and down with his gasps for breath. All this time, she had thought of Sam as a boy…hearing him come, though, made her think of him as a man. And the thoughts she had as she stroked herself to her own orgasm were all woman.

_xxxxx_

The next night, Quinn found her legs spread around Sam in a way she definitely did not anticipate.

She had spent the day cleaning the house, doing some writing, chatting with her parents and then before Sam was due to arrive she soaked in the tub and made sure everything was squeaky clean.

When he arrived at her house, she expected to fall into his embrace and take him at the first flat surface they found themselves on.

At around 9-ish, he sent her a text that read _headed over_. She waited anxiously at the door for him to pull up in her driveway.

Instead of leaping from the car and running to her waiting arms, he pulled himself out of the vehicle and made his way to the porch slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled when he saw her, though.

"Quinn..." he whispered and let her hug him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, sensing a very different vibe than what had happened on the phone the night before.

"Probably the worst night I've had at the store...my head is splitting..." he mumbled. She only had one lamp turned on in the living room at a low setting but she could tell his eyes were bleary and he kept rubbing the back of his neck. "I think it's a migraine..."

She had him sit on the couch while she got him some Tylenol and a warm washcloth. She slid in behind him, her legs spread around him that way. She put the warm compress on the back of his neck and began rubbing his temples, massaging his scalp, moving down to his shoulders.

"Everything that could go wrong _did_ go wrong tonight..." he started. "First, some lady came through the line with a bazillion coupons and like four carts worth of crap, then the computers crashed, _then _some other lady had got like 3 gallons of pickled beets from the deli and totally spilled them everywhere and was bitching about how she was going to sue Mr. Pritch for faulty lids and ruining her fucking muumuu...oh dear god..."

"Shh, Sam, don't worry about that now...just relax..."

"And then Betsy came in with that guy she's seeing, just to try to piss me off...didn't work though..."

Quinn went back to rubbing his temples for him. As soon as she heard the name _Betsy_ her guard went up.

"Two kids were running around, their dad not watching them, and knocked over a giant display of canned veggies...what a freaking mess...those things rolled to every corner of the damn store, I know it and the dad just laughed with his kids..."

He finally realized her legs were next to his and he let his palms rest on her skin. He dropped his head back to her shoulder.

"That feels so good...I'm sorry...I wanted tonight to be something more special..."

"S'okay, Sam...last night was actually pretty amazing," she said quietly. She worked her fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kissed the back of his neck.

"I've never done anything like that before..." he told her.

"Me either..."

"Really?"

"Really..." she giggled. "Is the Tylenol helping?"

"Your fingers are...I didn't even take a break tonight..." he mumbled.

"Are you hungry? Maybe that's why you've got such a headache," she said, leaning around him to look him in the eye. "I've got leftovers."

"Actually, something to eat does sound good..."

She scooted out around him. "You stay put...I'll bring you something..."

He lay back on the couch and propped his feet up while she put together a turkey sandwich in the kitchen. She returned with the sandwich and some grapes to find him snoozing. She took the plate back to the kitchen and returned with an afghan that had been her grandmother's and draped it over his sleeping figure. She then sat down in the recliner with a book and let him sleep, but not first without kissing him tenderly on the cheek.

_xxxxx_

Bored with the book, she watched him sleep. He was so youthful, yet built like a man. His arms were strong when wrapped around her; his passion undeniable. It bothered her that it felt wrong to be with him, to not meet his parents, to not go out in public together as a couple. He had loosened his tie before lying back on the couch and unbuttoned the top couple buttons on his dress shirt. She yearned to go to him and run her fingers over his bare skin, to kiss him there, kiss him awake. He stirred in his sleep, looking a bit restless, so she took that as her cue to slip over to his side and knelt next to him on the floor, running her fingers again through his hair. In his sleep, his lips curled up just a bit in response to her touch, then he turned his head and opened his eyes, taking her in. His eyes were tired but came to life while looking at her. She blushed at his stare but didn't avert her eyes.

"You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, Quinn..." he whispered. "I never want to stop looking into them...I can see forever..."

She thought he might be a little loopy from the Tylenol, but she smiled. "I see the same in your eyes, Sam."

He smiled, then yawned and looked at his watch. "Crap...I need to get home..."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "My head feels so much better."

She sat down next to him. "Good...I'm glad..."

"Hey...good news...I've only got a couple days of school left...then I'll have a lot more time to spend with you...if you want me to," he said, picking up her hand and caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

"I'd like that..." she replied. He kissed her then, his hand going behind her neck to pull her in and deepen the kiss.

"Let's try this again tomorrow night, okay?" he asked her, reluctantly pulling away.

"'Kay..."

She saw him off, then sat on the porch watching the waves, sipping on a wine cooler. Her mind was full of thoughts about Sam...was it wrong what they were doing? Did he feel the same for her? What exactly were they doing? She sighed. Too much thinking made _her _head hurt so she went on to bed.

He had texted her, though, when she checked her phone inside. _Tomorow, my dear..._ it read. She smiled.


	8. Picnic

_**Chapter 8~Picnic**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

She paced around her house nervously. _This is insane!_ she thought. _I shouldn't be so worked up over a...a boy!_

She had dreamed of him, all night it seemed. The final dream had been him walking away from her, walking down her beach, out of sight. She woke up feeling anxious, dreadful. _What if he did walk away from me? I'd just move on, like always. But...but he might be The One._

He texted her around noon. _No work today...I wanna take u some place._

She replied she was ready. She wore a pair of snug navy blue shorts and a white t-shirt. He pulled up 10 minutes later. He ran up to the door to walk her to his car.

"So, you want to take me out? Like, in public?" she asked once they were both in the front seat.

He smiled at her. "Well, yeah. I'd like to show ya off!"

She reached over for his hand before he put the car in reverse. "Sam...you realize that I'm older than you, right? Like, _older _older, out of school older..."

"Quinn, do you think I'm dumb?"

"Of course not!"

"Then let me show the world the great girl I'm goin' out with," he said.

"I don't think your parents would approve, Sam," she said, pulling her hand away and clasping her own hand in her lap.

"I'm nearly 18 years old, Quinn…they know I'm gonna meet someone sooner or later…I'm just glad it was sooner!"

"Sam…how old do you think I am?" She stared at him, waiting on his answer.

He blushed. "You said you got your master's, right? So…" he shrugged. "Around 24-ish?"

She swallowed. "I'll be 24 in August…"

"Cool…what day? Maybe we share a birthday!"

"The tenth…"

"Ah…I'm the first!"

"Sam, I'm six years older than you. People don't approve of relationships where one is under 18…"

"But, I'm older than 16…so…" He gazed at her, then took her hand again. "I wanna take you out today. Are you hungry? I made us lunch…" He glanced to the back seat, she did too and saw a picnic basket.

"Um, I told my mom I had a super special date so she helped me put it together after church…" he told her, squeezing her hand. "You said we'll go slow and I'm cool with that. I really, _really_, want to get to know you better, Quinn."

She smiled…she found herself doing a lot of that around him…and felt a tickling in her tummy…_excitement_.

She nodded. "Okay…let's go on a date."

_xxxxx_

He took her off Sullivan's Island to the Isle of Palms, the next beach over, and he stopped at a beachfront park there.

"I heard they were having a fair over here, so I thought we could do lunch and then go to the fair…does that sound okay?" he asked her.

"Sounds perfect," she answered, watching him pull the picnic basket from the backseat.

They found a shaded area where they could watch families play in the surf. Sam made a big production of spreading out a blanket for them to sit on, helping Quinn down to the blanket, then he opened the basket and started taking their lunch out. He placed a plate and plastic ware and a napkin in front of her, then his own setting. He pulled out plastic champagne flutes and filled those with sparkling cider.

"I told her these were, uh, weird looking, but she insisted," he said, laughing nervously.

Then, he brought out the food…chicken breast sandwiches with lettuce and tomato on whole wheat, fresh fruit and veggies, and angel food cake.

"I hope this is okay…I wanted to keep it light and healthy…"

"Looks delicious…you'll have to tell your mom _thank you_," Quinn said, taking a bite of a celery stick.

He looked up at her, concern streaking across his face. "Well, _we _can tell her thank you later on…they want to meet you."

Quinn stopped mid chew. "Are you serious?"

Sam laughed. "Yep. And don't worry…I already told them you were a little older than me."

Now, she choked on the damn celery. He wound up next to her, pounding her on the back.

"You told them?" she sputtered once the celery made its way down.

"Yeah…I can't lie to them…they always know…I told them I met you at the store," he said, sitting next to her, in case there were any more choking episodes.

"Well…what did they say?"

"They asked how old you were and I just said out of school; they asked if you worked and I told them you're an author…"

She recalled telling Sam she wrote textbooks. Oh god, now she'd have to lie to his parents too. She took several bites of her sandwich, trying to think of a way out of this.

"Whoa! Slow down on the sammie, Quinn!" he laughed. "Although I'm okay with doing mouth-to-mouth for you."

She snorted. They watched the beach-goers for a bit.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"What if they don't like me? Or think I'm too old for you?" she asked him.

"I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, right?" he said. "I mean, we're kind of…of a _thing _now, aren't we?" He had a look of worry on his face, afraid she'd say they were not a thing and never had been.

"I think we're something…" she responded, nibbling a baby carrot.

His smile beamed as brightly as the sun. "Good…me too!"

Quinn figured this was probably a step in the right direction, even though the thought of meeting Sam's family made her want to hurl a little. She was afraid they'd find her too old for their son and forbid him to see her; yet, on the other hand, it meant he was serious about their relationship. He had not lied to her from the beginning when he told her he was different from other guys. She had found that out for herself over the past few weeks. He had his moments of being a teenager but he had moments of being an adult, too. Not to mention he was undeniably gorgeous.

"So...that's okay? Going to meet my family? I really want them to meet you. Besides, my dad saw us at the school..." he said, putting a slice of angel food cake on her plate.

"Yeah, it's a good idea actually...that they meet me..." she said, watching the sea breeze lift his hair while his blue eyes shined.

"Awesome. They'll love you..."

Before she could take a bite of the angel food cake, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

"You taste sweet..." he said, their noses still touching.

His kisses took her breath away, made her dizzy. "You too..."

_xxxxx_

They packed up their picnic lunch and headed to the seaside fair going on nearby. It was early afternoon, the sun beginning to drop in the western sky, a cool salty breeze from the sea. They walked hand-in-hand down the midway, stopping to play carnival games and ride some of the more tame rides. Sam bought some pink cotton candy, and they sat down on a bench in the shade to nibble on it. They scooted close together, knees touching, ignoring the rest of the world around them, as they giggled and took bites from the cotton candy getting closer and closer to one another until they finally met in a sticky sweet pink kiss.

Being extremely daring, Sam touched his tongue to Quinn's lips. She had been waiting for this moment...all their kisses previously had been no tongue. She shyly parted her lips and gently touched his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from him...the kiss was intoxicating...she reached forward and put her hand on his shoulder...

"I cannot believe it! Sammy Evans! Showing some _PDA_!" a shrill voice screeched. The abbreviation _PDA _was spoken slowly in a lazy Southern drawl.

They broke apart...Sam staring at Quinn, his lips still parted and cherry red...then they both looked over at the voice...his ex-girlfriend Betsy and her new boyfriend and a gaggle of their friends, Quinn guessed the Pom Poms. Sam's cheeks were reddened by a blush; he looked down at the cotton candy he held at his lap.

Betsy laughed raucously and turned her attention to Quinn. "Hope you have better luck with him than I did, sweety. He's a prude!"

She turned to walk away and something bubbled up inside Quinn from her days as being head Cheerio and HBIC.

"I'd rather be known as a prude than be known as a whore," she said, just loudly enough for all of them to hear. Sam looked up at her in shock.

Betsy and her crowd stopped.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," Quinn replied, standing up, looking down at the petite brunette.

They stared each other down for a few moments, the crowd wondering what the next move was going to be.

Betsy then _harumphed_, turned on her heel, and over her shoulder she shouted, "Enjoy him, you old hag!"

At that Quinn, smirked. _Old hag, my ass...he dumped __**you**__ for __**me**__!_

Sam stood up. "I never really cared for the drama surrounding her."

"She must thrive on it..." Quinn said. "Sorry...I was a bit rude."

"Nothing rude about speaking the truth...wanna go on the Ferris wheel?"

"Sure..." They finished off the rest of the cotton candy and took Quinn's hand.

_xxxxx_

The Ferris wheel sat close to the ocean's edge, as close as legally possible Quinn assumed. They waited in line and finally boarded, sitting in a bright blue car. Sam rocked the cage a bit, earning giggles and squeals from Quinn. When they moved the first time and stopped, he put his arm around her and pulled her next to him.

"About what she said..." he started.

"You don't have to talk about it," Quinn interrupted.

"I'm not a prude...just haven't met someone I'm comfortable enough with to...to share that stuff..." he went on.

The car jerked and they moved up another level.

"It's okay really..."

The wheel started spinning slowly, then more quickly. Quinn felt her tummy drop every time they'd crest the top and make their descent. He was nibbling at her neck, and she was giggling, when their Ferris wheel ride began to slow down. Their car was stopping and starting as riders exited below them.

At the top, Sam said to Quinn, "On the phone the other night...I meant I'd never done..._that_...like in front of anyone else."

She looked at him, their foreheads together. "So, no one has ever..." She cleared her throat. "...jerked you off?"

He smirked. "Just me."

The car they were in jerked into motion once again, their car swaying in the breeze as it came to another stop.

"Is this something that you maybe want me to do?" she asked him, biting her lower lip. "For you?"

He nodded and kissed her, the blush creeping up to his ears.

The Ferris wheel moved again and they exited the ride and decided to go to his car.

_xxxxx_

He pulled his car back around to the park where they had picnicked and found a secluded shady parking spot. He barely had the car turned off before Quinn was kissing him, picking up where they had been rudely interrupted during their French kissing. He responded, just as passionately and eagerly, moving into the middle of the bench seat. He gasped when she straddled him.

His eyes darted from his lap, to her mid section, to her eyes. "Do you think we'll get caught?" he asked her between her kisses.

"No..." she mumbled back, her hands squarely on his shoulders for the time being.

As they kept kissing, their tongues moving against one another's in some sort of lover's dance, she slowly slid herself closer and closer to his groin. When the apex of her legs finally met with resistance, the hardness of his cock, she whimpered a little into his mouth. His hands were planted on her hips, and he started grinding himself against her.

"God, Quinn...I want you to touch it..." he whispered to her. "Please..."

She rubbed against him, only thin layers of fabric between them, feeling the heat come off him in waves. "Are you sure, Sam?"

He nodded, looking up at her.

"Okay..." she whispered, kissing him softly and moving her hands slowly down his chest.

His body was hard and muscular under her hands. At the hem of his t-shirt, she pushed her hands back up to his pecs, now on his bare skin. She ran her fingertips over his hard nipples, and his hips jerked up into her. She could feel the definition of his abdominal muscles, rising and falling with his breathing, under her palms. When her thumb touched his bellybutton, she followed a trail of soft light brown hair to the waistband of his shorts. She pushed herself back on his knees, not really wanting to leave the friction of dry humping him, but it was okay...she was about to dip her hand down into his shorts.

His nylon shorts were tented between them and damp from both of them. She ran her palm over the front of his shorts, and he responded by pressing his hips up toward her hand. She glanced at him, and he was staring down at his crotch, biting down on his lip.

With her free hand, she pulled down a bit on his shorts, exposing the blue boxers underneath, straining to contain his manhood. And, to Quinn, he was definitely all man when aroused. She traced her fingers around his penis, feeling the landmarks, even the veins and arteries pulsing through the fabric. She moved to lower his boxers, and he suddenly came alive and took both shorts and boxers and shoved them down past his hips, giving her better access to his throbbing length.

It was her turn to stare now. In the waning sunlight of the day, golden hair stood out amongst the light brown at the base of his penis. The skin of his cock was engorged and flushed a rosy color and hot. His scrotum was hairy too, and she kept seeing glints of gold shining. She touched him gently at first and even that light touch caused him to thrust his hips upward to her. He felt perfect in her hand. The skin of his head was smooth and slickened with his fluid already; she stroked downward slowly, then back up, running her thumb underneath his head, making him moan and drop his other head back.

She watched his face while she stroked him. It was plainly obvious that he was enjoying it, probably too much, and she knew he probably had not been lying when he said no one else had done this for him. He must've felt her staring at him because he casually lifted his head and looked back at her with heavy eyelids, dark eyes, and a lopsided grin.

"God, Quinn, you are incredible..." he mumbled to her. He slid a hand from her hip up her arm and shyly touched her breast, cupping her and squeezing gently.

His touch did something to her, deep inside, low in her belly.

"S-Sam..." His name tumbled from her mouth as she stroked him more quickly and tightened her grip around his cock.

His eyes closed and his hips began jerking. She slowed down, going back to long full strokes, slowly up and down him, running her thumb over his swollen head each time. He was squirming beneath her. His one hand was frozen on her breast, the other hand squeezing her hip, so she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He whimpered that time.

She picked up the pace again and realized if she scooted a little more closely to him her own hand bumped her vagina in _just _the right way. She was unbelievably turned on by this and wanted the release as badly as he did. She began grinding against her hand beating Sam off.

In between the erratic tongue kisses and heavy breathing and hips gyrating and Quinn's hand pumping Sam strong and hard, the outside world was lost to both of them. She continued fast strokes now, sensing he was near the edge. It felt as if he had grown even larger in her hand. He gripped her at one hip and still had a hand locked on her boob when his lips began trembling against hers.

"Quinn...god...don't stop...f-f-fuck...so close..."

She kissed him, nipping his lip a bit. "Me too..."

His eyes flew open then, his lips parted...and he seized up.

"Oh fuck..._fuck_...oh god..." He thrusted up into her hand and exploded between them. "_Fuuuuuck..._"

Her hand was covered with his hot jizz and the smell of it filled the car. Her own mind drifted off, feeling him squeeze her breast again while he came down from his orgasm as she continued to stroke him, more gently now but still rubbing herself against her own hand. Watching him, hearing him, _feeling _him orgasm caused insane pleasure for her. Much like he did, she seized up when it hit her, whimpering against his lips.

"Sam...oh my god, Sam..." Her voice had taken on an extra octave it seemed, but she had to let the words out.

She swallowed hard and kept panting, much like him. She realized he was still caressing her breast.

"Do you like my boob?" she asked, smirking, when she finally got her breath back.

"Yeah, I do. Do you like my wang?" He matched her smirk.

Her hand was still wrapped around it, even though he was flaccid now.

She smiled. God, how he made her smile.

"Yep…I do…"

_xxxxx_

Quinn slipped off Sam's lap, and he pulled spare napkins out of the picnic basket.

"Always prepared," he said, laughing.

They cleaned themselves up, then stepped out of the car to toss the napkins and take a quick walk on the beach before going to see his parents.

The cool sand felt good between her bare toes, Quinn thought, walking lazily hand-in-hand with Sam, letting the ocean cover their feet and slip away.

The sunset was pretty that day, a sign that summer was on its way...a summer full of days and nights with Sam.

As if sensing her thoughts, he stopped and pulled her into a loose embrace.

"I really like you, Quinn," he said to her, kissing her softly on her forehead.

"I like you too, Sam..." she responded.

They stood facing one another, holding hands.

"The thing in the car was _awesome_!" he blurted out.

She giggled.

"I've never had one happen so...so _hard_..." he said, a little more reserved. His face was flushed again.

They started walking again.

"I wasn't even sure what would happen when a girl had one," he said to her. "I mean, yeah, I've seen them in porn but never in real life."

He stopped her again. "I want to make that happen for you again."

He hugged her tightly.

"We'll just take it slow, okay?" she told him again. Her worst fear at that point was getting too deeply involved with him while he still had a year of high school to get through. And having her heart broken by a soon-to-be 18-year-old? She wasn't about to let that happen.

"What time do your parents expect us?"

"Just whenever...are you nervous? About meeting them?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "I've met parents before."

He looked a bit hurt. "They're really cool...as far as parents go, I guess."

"Cool. Today has been really a great day, Sam. Thanks for taking me out," she said, hooking her arm in his and turning to walk back.

"I love hanging out at your place, but I want to take you out too," he said.

Suddenly, he swooped her up and spun her around. She clung to his shoulders, trying not to scream and not succeeding.

She kissed him while he held her in the surf, really not wanting the day to end.


	9. Sam's Family

_**Chapter 9~Sam's Family**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Quinn didn't want her day with Sam to end, but they had to go visit his parents. They cleaned up their feet, put their footwear back on, and climbed into his car.

He drove into Charleston proper, not too far away from where her old apartment was. They were in the neighborhood of South of Broad and Sam pulled up in front of an older style duplex. Quinn knew that these older buildings had been bought by investors and restyled for modern-day living.

"The company my dad went to work for is putting us up here until we find a place of our own. I kinda like it here, though," Sam told her, grabbing the picnic basket from the back seat.

The building was a three-story narrow duplex, built with gray stone. The Evans lived on the left side. There were many steps leading up to the front door; Quinn counted 14. The windows were tall on the second and third levels. They entered on the second level of the home. Sam took Quinn's hand and led her up the front steps.

"I lived a couple blocks over when I first moved here," she told him.

"You did? It's a great neighborhood," he said. He stopped at the front door. "Are you ready for this?"

She took a deep breath. "As ready as I'm gonna be!"

She smoothed down her hair and her shirt and shorts, hoping she didn't smell like Sam from earlier, and followed him into his home.

The first thing she heard was laughter and lots of it. They were in a foyer of sorts. He set the picnic basket down and squeezed her hand.

"Sammy's home!" a tiny girl voice yelled. "And he brought a _giiirrrrllll_!"

Sam looked over his shoulder at Quinn and rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, a blonde blur flung herself into Sam's arms.

"I missed you, Sammy! Did you have fun on your _daaaaate_?" the little blonde girl asked him, giggling.

He laughed out loud. "I missed you too, Stinky…erm…Stacy!"

The little girl cackled and Sam set her down.

"Stink-Stace…this is Quinn; Quinn, my little sis Stacy," Sam said, smiling.

Quinn smiled at the tiny blonde girl who was full of giggles and squeals.

"Hi Stacy! Your big brother has told me lots of neat stuff about you," Quinn said, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. "Like, how you love to braid your hair and wear nail polish. I like to do the same things."

The little girl beamed. "You do? What's your favorite color?"

"Silver! I love to wear silver on my fingers!"

Stacy's eyes got big. Quinn noticed she had the same eyes as Sam. "I never thought of silver!"

"Maybe some time I can give you a manicure and use silver, if it's okay with your mom," Quinn suggested to her.

"I'll go ask her!" Stacy screeched and ran for the back of the duplex.

"Well, that was Stacy…I swear, the kid never sleeps," Sam said, laughing.

They were standing in a living room that was warm and cozy, decorated in browns and tans and whites. Quinn looked at some framed pictures on the entertainment center.

"Oh my god…you were adorable!" Quinn said, finding one of Sam with his two siblings.

He snorted a bit. "I hated that outfit."

He was wearing overalls and a plaid shirt and sat in a small rocking chair. His sister was a tiny baby and he held her precariously on his lap. His little brother was propped up on the floor at Sam's feet in the picture.

"Stace was not even 6 months old, Stevie about 18 months old, and I was like 9-ish," he told Quinn.

"Well, you are adorable and so is Stacy and Stevie," she said again.

There was more laughter, coming from the back of the home.

"They must be in the kitchen," he said, taking her hand again.

He led her down a hallway, past a small bathroom, and into the boisterous kitchen. The kitchen itself was busy in colors, multiple eclectic colors of blues, reds, greens, yellows, oranges, purples, with Sam's family plunked down right in the middle of it.

"Welcome home, you two!" his mom said cheerfully. "And, Stevie, you owe me rent…you landed on my Reading Railroad!"

Quinn could now see where Sam got his blonde hair and dashing good looks. His father was handsome; his mother beautiful. Both were blonde, though Quinn thought his mom probably kept her hair blonde via chemicals.

"Ah mom! Really?" the young blonde boy at the table asked, disappointed.

"Do you need a loan, son? I've got plenty of money to give away," Sam's father said, laughing. He was obviously the banker in their game of Monopoly.

"Mom, dad, Stevie, this is my friend Quinn," Sam said, looking back at her. "Quinn, my family."

"Welcome Quinn...it's nice to finally meet you," Sam's mom said, standing to shake her hand. "Sam's told us many great things about you. I'm Mary, by the way, and this is my husband Dwight. Care for anything to drink?"

Quinn instantly felt at home with these people. His mother poured her a glass of lemonade.

"Do you know how to play Monopoly, Quinn?" Stevie asked her. He was basically a younger version of Sam, Quinn thought.

"I do know how to play, actually," she replied. "I always like to be the old shoe."

Stevie laughed at that. "I like to be the race car."

"Maybe next time, sport," Dwight interjected. "You have school tomorrow, remember."

"Yeah, yeah..." Stevie mumbled.

"So, Sam tells us that you're actually _out _of school..." Dwight said, turning to Quinn.

Quinn cleared her throat. _Here goes nothing_, she thought.

"I finished my studies at Yale with a Bachelor of Arts degree in English," Quinn said, smiling. She was very proud of that degree. She didn't feel any need to tell them about her further education at the College of Charleston. She took a sip of lemonade.

"Well, Sam, you've picked wisely," Dwight said to Sam, grinning. Quinn was pretty sure she saw a sly wink, too. "I see now how he won his most improved award in language arts."

Sam's parents laughed lightheartedly.

"He also tells us you're a published author. Anything we might know?" Mary asked her.

Quinn laughed a little. "Probably not, unless you enjoy reading high school text books." _A little white lie never hurt anyone_, she thought.

Sam's parents both groaned. "No, thank you...I got enough of that 27 years ago!" his dad said, laughing a very similar laugh to Sam's.

She laughed with them. _If only they knew_, she thought.

"Are you from Charleston?" Stacy asked her.

"No, I grew up in Lima, Ohio...you've probably never heard of it," Quinn laughed.

Stacy shook her head _no_. "Can't say that I have!"

"Maybe soon we can have a cookout at my place," she offered. "I have a home on Sullivan's Island and I'd love to have you all over for a barbecue soon."

"Sounds fun..." Dwight said, looking to Mary who nodded.

"Do you have a pool?" Stacy piped up.

"Stacy! Where are your manners?" Mary said admonishingly. Stacy mumbled a quiet _sorry_.

Quinn smiled. "I do! Do you like to swim?"

"Do I ever!"

"Awesome...maybe in a couple weeks then?"

"Just let us know when and what time," Mary told her, smiling. "And what to bring...baked beans are my specialty."

"Wanna come see my room?" Sam asked Quinn.

"Samuel Arthur! Where are _your _manners?" his mother asked.

Sam cleared his throat. "I was going to ask Stace to come up with us...jeez..."

Stacy ran around the table and grabbed Quinn's hand. "C'mon...I'll show ya where Smelly...oh, I mean Sammy...sleeps."

Stacy cackled again at that since Sam was trying to catch her. She pulled Quinn back through to the front of the house and up the stairs with Sam close behind them.

Once upstairs and catching her breath, Quinn asked Sam with a smile, "Arthur?"

"Don't you laugh! That was my great-great-great grandpa's name!" he said, faking a frown. "And your middle name?"

"You know it already!" Quinn said, being pulled again by Stacy down the hallway upstairs.

Sam looked confused but followed the two girls.

"This is my mom and dad's bedroom...it's huge...this is _my _bedroom...I get my own...and this one is Smelly and Stanky's room!" Stacy said, giggling at her brothers' nicknames.

"There's a reason we call her Stinky...just sayin'," Sam said to Quinn, raising his eyebrows. Quinn couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Sammy!" Stacy said, pouting. She led Quinn into the boys' room, flipping on the overhead light.

"Wow Sam…this is…interesting…" Quinn said, looking around.

There were two twin beds and two chests of drawers and one desk. Everything was actually neat and tidy, the beds made up, no stray socks littering the floor. The decoration of the room? Spiderman. Red and blue _everywhere_.

"I know! I love it! We do Spidey for 6 months and then switch to Batman…cool, huh?" he said, totally excited.

The bedding was all red and blue, the drapery was red and blue, a Spiderman lamp was turned on, and they had a life-sized Spiderman wall cling between their beds.

"This is a lot of Spiderman," Quinn said, laughing.

"You're telling me!" Stacy said.

"Oh, as if your room doesn't look like Hello Kitty was barfed up in there!" Sam responded. "Why don't you go find that Hello Kitty mani-pedi thing to show Quinn?"

"Oh yeah! Cool!" Stacy ran off.

As soon as Stacy was out of sight, Sam pulled Quinn down onto his bed.

"She'll never find that Hello Kitty thing in her messy room," he said, pulling Quinn into a kiss.

"I feel like Spidey is watching us," she smiled against his lips.

"More like protecting us..." he mumbled. He had just touched his tongue against hers when they heard the running footsteps approaching.

They jumped up from his bed, and Quinn grabbed a comic book. "Oh, so the Green Lantern saved the day, huh?" she asked.

He looked at her, then took the comic book and turned it right-side up. "Yeah..." he laughed. "That's how it happened."

"Check this out, Quinn..." Stacy said, flopping down on Stevie's bed with her Hello Kitty manicure system. Quinn sat down with her and watched her explain all the ins and outs of the machine.

"I got it for my birthday. Cool, huh?" she asked Quinn.

"Totally cool...your nails look fabulous!" The little girl beamed at Quinn. To Sam, she whispered, "I like her better than the other girl."

"I need to get Quinn home now!" Sam announced, pulling Stacy up off the bed and sending her on her way.

"The other girl, hmm?" Quinn asked him.

"You know who she's talking about...she has been the only girl I've dated since moving here," he said to her.

Quinn eyed him. He held her gaze. She believed him.

"Thanks for introducing me to your folks and showing me your, uh, man cave," she said, laughing. "Bring me back when you switch to Batman...I've always been partial to Bruce Wayne."

"Wait...what? You _know_ who Batman is?" he asked, incredulously, following her out of his bedroom.

"Well, yeah!"

"So, maybe we can watch it at your place sometime?" he asked, snaking his arm around her waist as they walked toward the staircase.

"Maybe..."

He snuck in one more peck on the cheek before they descended the stairs to say goodbye to his parents.

"Did you like the Spiderman stuff?" Stevie asked her. "We got a lot of it!"

"Spiderman is okay, but I prefer Batman," she replied, smiling.

He laughed. "Me too! Sammy likes Spidey."

Quinn looked at Sam, and he shrugged.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Quinn. You're welcome in our home any time," Sam's mother said, standing again. She gave Quinn a quick hug.

"Yes, we've heard quite a bit about the mysterious Quinn and were anxious to meet you," his father added, also standing. He was taller than Sam.

"Okay, well, I'm taking her home now...so..." Sam said, trying to make a break for the front of the house.

"Remember, cookout at my place in a couple weeks," Quinn said, being pulled out of the kitchen, laughing. "Nice meeting you all!"

They ran down the front steps and he opened her car door for her. Once he was in the car and they were buckled in, he let out a sigh of relief.

"That went a lot better than I expected it to...I would've bet hard-earned money that one of those two kids would've farted on you...just sayin'!" he told her.

"Oh! My sister and I _never _did that!" Quinn said, laughing.

Sam stared at her. "Really? Not one single fart?"

Quinn shook her head. "Nope. None whatsoever." She was lying through her teeth, but there was no way she was going to admit to farting to Sam.

"Hmm...that's very ladylike of you," he said, rubbing his nonexistent beard. He started up the car and headed toward Sullivan's Island.

They had their windows down and the radio up, singing along to the hit tunes.

"So, what have your parents said? You know, about us?" she asked him.

He reached over and took her hand. "They said I need to focus on school right now but I can have friends."

"Am I just a friend?" she asked.

He came to a stop at an intersection. "You're more than a friend, Quinn." He leaned over to kiss her before the light turned green.

"Did I tell you that my mom is older than my dad?" he said, driving along the bridge to Sullivan's Island.

She looked at him in surprise. "No!"

He nodded, smiling. "Yep...she's like three years older than him."

"Maybe that's why they seem to be okay with this?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Like I said, they're pretty cool."

"They seem really nice and easy to talk to," Quinn said. "It'll be nice to have a little get-together in a couple weeks…I've not yet had a party at the house."

"You ought to do it on Fourth of July…since moving here, they don't have a lot of friends, kinda always sitting at home," Sam laughed.

"Sure…sounds perfect," she agreed.

He pulled into her driveway and killed the engine.

"Enough about them…I wanna talk about us…are you seeing anyone else?" he asked her bluntly.

Quinn was so shocked she didn't answer for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Uh, well, no, I'm not…are you?"

"No!"

"I mean, do you want to?" she asked him. "See other people?"

"No…do you?"

"I want to get to know you better, Sam. And, I don't have time to be seeing a ton of people," she said.

"So…I guess I'm just asking if we're, like, exclusive?" he asked.

"We could try that," she said, smiling. "Let's see where the summer leads us, okay?"

"Cool…" His smile beamed in the darkness. He leaned in and hugged her, then kissed her softly. "I've had a great day, Quinn."

"Mmm, me too," she murmured, wondering how out of line it would be to invite him inside.

"One more question, though…" he said. "What's your middle name?"

"Quinn is my middle name, Sam," she replied. "Lucy is my first name."

He smiled. "I love your name…_Lucy Quinn_…perfect…"

After some more kissing, they made plans for when he finished up his school year and what his work schedule was. She told him to text her if he was coming by. He walked her to her door, then she watched him back out of her drive and leave slowly down her street.

Twenty minutes later, while she was relaxing in a bubble bath and reliving the day's events, he texted her.

_Such a sweet day with a sweet girl…can't wait 4 more…_

She smiled at the message on her phone.

_Me either…_she replied.


	10. Surprise

_**Chapter 10~Surprise**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

**M-rated!**

Sam finished up his junior year, then started working full-time hours at the market. Quinn was busy working on her next short story. She was telling the story of her teen pregnancy and was at the point where she was torn between telling Finn that he had not gotten her pregnant, even though he believed he did so in a hot tub. After writing that scene, Quinn put on her bikini and slipped out to her very own hot tub to relax. Sam had texted her if it was okay he'd stop by on his lunch hour and she had said _yes_ so she expected him anytime. Her last text to him had said _hot tub_.

She heard his car pull up and the engine die. She then heard his footfalls on the porch as he came around the side, pulling his shirt off, then dropping his pants, smiling at her, stepping into the Jacuzzi.

"You have to go back there, right?" she asked when he slipped in next to her in nothing but his boxers.

"Yep, unfortunately. I'll go commando…I'm just doing inventory tonight," he said, draping an arm around her shoulders, nuzzling her neck.

"How has your morning been?" she asked him.

"Boring, but it's work so I guess it's supposed to be, right?" he said, laughing. "This hot tub feels awesome, though."

He squeezed her shoulders, then moved his arm and sunk down to his shoulders, resting his head on the edge, closing his eyes. She moved across the hot tub from him.

She relaxed in the same way, letting the bubbling water envelope her up to her chin, soothing all her muscles. She had a long afternoon ahead of her of re-writes on her latest few chapters, plus more fanmail to answer. That evening, she had a symposium to attend on the campus at the College.

"I'm glad you got to stop by at lunch," she told him. Usually, he stayed at the grocery or picked up a quick lunch, the grocery being too busy for him to take a full lunch hour. "There's salad in the kitchen..."

"Mmm...sounds good...are you busy tonight?" he asked. He always asked her if she was busy.

"Actually, yeah, I have a meeting to attend," she told him, frowning a bit.

"Oh, okay," he sat up more straighter, looking a little disappointed.

"Maybe tomorrow night?" she suggested.

"I've got plans with Mike and Artie," he laughed. "Soon..."

He kissed her on the cheek, then laced his hands behind his neck. The sight of his bare chest caused her to lose track of any concentration she possessed. His shoulders were well developed and bulging...light hair under his arms...one nipple was slightly higher than the other one...his ribs well defined. She floated over to him and sat on his knees, running her hands over his muscular chest.

He dropped his head back and groaned. "Better not start that right now, Quinn...I'll never make it back to work..."

She ignored him and let her fingers drift below the water, first to his bellybutton, then to the waistband of his boxers. She yearned to feel him again.

As her fingers ghosted over his erection, he slipped a finger beneath the bikini top strap and pushed it off her shoulder. Her left breast was exposed to him, droplets of the hot tub water jumping up to her supple skin and running down to her hard nipple and dripping downward. She watched him stare in awe at her breast, his lips parted, then he leaned forward as if to kiss her there...

_Red solo cup...I fill you up...  
Let's have a party! Let's have a party!  
I love you red solo cup...I lift you up...  
Proceed to party! Proceed to party!_

Sam and Quinn both groaned. She took her hand away from his crotch; Sam put her strap back on her shoulder as she reached for her cell phone.

"It's my agent..." she said to Sam. He nodded, still in a heated up fog.

Once the issue between his legs had settled down, he whispered to her that he was going to make a salad while she saying her hellos to the person on the other end. He stepped out of the hot tub and she was momentarily speechless at the sight of his physique...soaking wet, shining in the sun, all muscle, and only a pair of boxers soaked to his body, outlining every possible detail. He grabbed a towel she had laid out plus his jeans and work shirt, and she watched the muscles working in his legs...the light brown hair wet and manly...

"Quinn? Are you still there? Hello?" her agent said into her phone. Quinn snapped out of her reverie, still watching Sam make his way to the back door to go into the kitchen. He smiled over his shoulder at her.

"Yep...yeah, I'm still here..." she said, wishing she could toss the phone into the nearby woods. "What's up?"

"I take it you haven't seen what's online yet..." Marcy Wiggins, her agent at Signa, said. "We need to set up some sort of game plan."

"For what? No, I haven't seen anything. What're you talking about?" Quinn said, now all her attention focused on her agent.

Marcy sighed. "Well, obviously, your latest series is gaining quite a bit of attention and it has been questioned on blogs and Perez Hilton and TMZ that _Paul Watson _may just not be writing these stories."

Quinn sat up straight in the hot tub. "What?! How is that possible?"

"Someone found out about Kevin, the model, and now they know that he is just a model and it's being reported that _Paul Watson _is a pseudonym," Marcy told her.

"Oh my god," Quinn muttered.

"Well, the question is do we strike while the iron is hot?" Marcy paused. "Or come clean about who you are?"

Quinn nibbled her pinky fingernail. "What do you mean, 'strike while the iron's hot'?"

"Play out the mystery for awhile and churn out your awesome stories," Marcy replied. "With an air of mystery, I foresee a boost in sales. Sleep on it, see what's being said online, and let me know tomorrow."

"How hard would it be for someone to find out it's me? If we don't disclose that I'm the author, could someone dig around and find me out?"

"It's a very guarded secret right now since you chose to go with a pseudonym while you were in college. Now that you're more settled, I think your privacy would remain intact. If you wanted, _you _could do book signings and such, travel a bit and meet your readers."

"Okay, yeah, let me think about it...gimme a day or so, okay?" Quinn asked.

"By the end of this week...let me know how we should proceed then...smooches!" And Marcy was gone.

Quinn climbed out of the hot tub, grabbed her own towel, and joined Sam on the back patio where he was eating a salad. He had made her one also, so she sat down with him to share their lunch before he returned to work. He was dressed in his jeans and shirt again, his hair still a bit damp.

"Anything important?" he asked her.

"No, not really, just my agent with a question..." she said. "Thanks for making me a salad…"

"No problem…" he said, looking at her. "Are you okay? You seem…spacey…"

She had so much running through her mind. "I'm good. I'll miss you tonight…and tomorrow night…is it a date for the night after that?"

He gave her one of his famous lopsided smiles. "Yep…sure is!"

"Good…maybe we can finish what we started in the hot tub…" she purred, gazing up at him from half-closed lids.

He nearly choked on a grape tomato.

Later, she found his soaked boxers on the floor next to her washer and that was how he began leaving clothes at her place.

_xxxxx_

The symposium was a traveling seminar of some of the most learned writers of the day, hailing originally from Yale University, which was why Quinn was interested in going. It was a 3-hour meeting, basically a refresher course for Quinn, but still she hoped to run into some of her mentors. Unfortunately, her concentration was shot all to hell thanks to the phone call from Marcy and then Quinn's subsequent research on the internet later that day.

_The Unholy Trinity Author: Not Who He Says He Is!  
Paul Watson Not The Popular YA Author! So Who Is?  
Mystery! Who Writes The Unholy Trinity Series?_

On TMZ's website, they reported, along with a picture of the model Kevin Trez, that the model only _posed_ as author Paul Watson. Apparently, Kevin wanted to break into acting and he felt this was his way to fame. Quinn noted that he did not reveal the true author of the books as he didn't actually know it was her. His contract was officially defunct with Signa now. And people wanted to know who was writing _The Unholy Trinity _series. Signa Publishing had yet to release a statement and had not returned any calls to the media outlets.

Soon, Quinn received a call from Santana.

"So, it appears as though your model flaked out on you," she said when Quinn answered.

"So I've heard...not sure what I'm going to do yet..."

"I say let it drum up some press, the mystery of it...people obviously love your books and the stories you tell...and I think the pregnancy story needs to be told for other girls dealing with the same issue that you did..."

Quinn laughed. "That's what Marcy said...let it simmer for awhile, especially since we're just beginning the preggo stuff..."

Quinn sighed. "It's just...I've got kinda close to this guy and I kinda lied to him about what I do for a living..."

"What guy?" Santana snapped. "The grocery store kid?"

Quinn paused only briefly, long enough for Santana to know.

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn!"

"No, Santana, it's different than that...he's a sweet, caring, handsome young man...and he's nearly 18..."

"HE'S STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL?" Santana bellowed.

Quinn grimaced. "Um, yeah..."

Quinn could picture Santana shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Really, Quinn? Do you just _want _to get your heart broken?"

"No! No, Santana...he's different from the rest...and truthfully he's more of a man than some of the idiots I've wasted my time on!"

Santana sighed on the other end. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Q."

"Don't worry about me!" Quinn said, then steered the conversation to what was happening in the Big Apple.

After that call, she had to handle a call from her mother, asking her about this new development of her stories coming under fire.

"They're not under fire, mother, just people now know they were being written under a pseudonym and people, people who enjoy the stories, want to know who actually writes them," Quinn sighed.

That seemed to placate her mother regarding that issue, then the requisite: "Sooooo, have you met _The One _yet?"

Quinn groaned. "No mother! There is no _One_!" As the words fell from her mouth, though, she knew she was lying.

She was able to end that conversation by using the excuse of getting ready for the symposium.

She decided to wear her favorite skirt suit, a black form-fitting skirt with a kick pleat with silver inlays, black blazer, and silver silk blouse. She straightened her hair and did her makeup as professionally as she could. In a black leather bag, she added her iPad and wallet. She put her lipstick and mascara in a small black patent leather purse. Getting ready mostly took her mind off the pseudonym issue.

She drove to the Addlestone Library on campus and parked, thankful to still have use of her student parking pass. She approached the more modern limestone three-story building, anxious to get inside and stand under the rotunda. It had been awhile since she had been to the library, six months almost.

She went instinctively to room 227, the Meeting Room, and signed in. She mingled a bit with people she had once rubbed shoulders with at Yale, then settled in at a spot at the U-shaped table to listen to the speakers.

After a break at one and a half hours, she returned to the seminar and promptly wanted to crawl under the table when one of presenters began talking about the use of pseudonyms, pros and cons. He even used the current revelation of a young adult author, still unknown, being 'outed' from his/her pseudonym. Her stomach literally churned at the anxiety she felt as the others around her discussed this present-day situation, the implications, and what might come of it.

During this roundtable discussion, she received an email from Marcy:

_The publishers have decided to let this remain a mystery for as long as possible so don't reveal yourself just yet! They feel this will actually create press, not only for your series but for the entire company as well…maybe get more books to sell. The PR dept is working on a back story for you as we speak. Take care!_

Quinn still felt nervous, though, as if her secret was about to be blown out of the water.

_xxxxx_

Driving back to Sullivan's Island, she still felt wound up, nervous, anxious. She needed something, a release. And she found it in the blue Chevelle parked at Pritchett's Market.

She pulled her Beetle up next to his car and brushed her hair, touched up the mascara and lipstick, and spritzed on some perfume before making her entrance. She knew she looked in her dressy suit. Plus, she had worn her four-inch black patent leather heels and she wondered if she'd be eye-to-eye with Sam when facing him. Not only had she worn the heels, but she had even gone so far as to wear the stockings with the black back seam and garters. She knew she looked hot; it was part of her strategy for taking her mind off her current work issue.

Her feet _clicked clicked _through the parking lot to the front of the store. Inside the store, she passed by the shopping carts, swinging her black patent leather purse. She spied Sam working at the customer service desk and headed that way.

He heard the _clicking _of her heels and glanced up from what he was doing, his eyes taking her in and getting wide, a slow smile spreading over his features. He cleared his throat.

"Good evening, Miss Fabray," he said happily.

"Good evening, Sam…" she murmured, stopping at the desk.

"Uh, Bonnie, could you watch over things for a bit? Miss Fabray, I have those papers that you needed to review," Sam said, holding up a few sheets of paper.

Quinn had no idea what he was talking about, but she rolled with it.

"Great! Thank you so much!" she said, smiling.

"We can review them in Mr. Pritchett's office, if that's okay with you?"

"That's fine…"

He led the way to the boss's office, and she _clicked clicked _behind him. He held the door open for her, and she passed dangerously close next to him as she slipped into the nondescript room.

He shut the door, she heard the lock, and he whipped her around, pulling her against him. Her purse slid from her fingers to the floor, as his hands gripped her hips, then her ass. She loved the aggressive side of him. She melted into him as he sucked at her neck, her fingers tangled into his mess of blonde hair.

"God, you look unbelievable…" he mumbled against her skin.

His hands roamed up to her blazer that he swiftly undone, took off her, and tossed to a chair. Her blouse was unbuttoned low, and he placed both of his hands on her breasts, rubbing her hard nipples through the silky fabric. He unbuttoned the next button down and then saw the black lacy bra she had chosen to wear. He bit down on his lip.

"Unreal…"

She took a tiny step back from him, just enough to look down between them at his khaki slacks tenting. She pulled his shirt from the pants and began unbuckling his belt. He dropped his head back against the door, groaning.

She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants slowly, then pushed them down his legs, revealing Spiderman boxers. She giggled out loud. He looked at her, dazed.

"Spidey? Really?" she asked, palming his erection underneath the cotton fabric.

"Oh god…" he sighed at her touch. "He's my fave…"

She pulled the front of his briefs away from his length and pushed them down a bit. She licked her lips at the sight of him. He was so hard his penis was pointing upward, eying her it seemed. He was engorged, red, the veins pulsing beneath the skin. She slid her hands up his bare torso, his shirt being pushed up too.

"Hold that…" she mumbled and knelt down.

He grabbed the edge of his shirt and stared down at her as she placed kisses on his tummy down to his bellybutton.

"Oh god…god…Quinn…are you…?"

She glanced up at him, her lips on the trail of hair to his groin, his cock brushing her chin, and smiled. A few more kisses downward…

She gently kissed the tip of his cock, licking at the bit of precum she found there. She could hear him moaning quietly above her. She looked up to see his eyes squeezed shut, his shirt clutched in both his hands at his chest, his face grimaced in great concentration.

"Is this okay, Sam? Should I stop?" she asked him.

He vigorously shook his head _no_. He glanced down at her quickly.

"No…please…oh my god…" and then he resumed his position.

She blew on him softly. She could see his belly heaving in and out with his breathing. She looked back to his member. There was hair, but it appeared as if he had attempted to manscape a bit. His scrotum, now exposed to the cool air of the office and being highly stimulated, was goosebumped. She kissed him there and he whimpered.

She ran her tongue upward from the base to the head of his cock before slowly enveloping him inside her lips. She almost thought his knees were going to buckle.

She actually enjoyed giving head…especially impromptu head. Thankfully, he wasn't too sweaty in that region because that was always gag-worthy. And, she needed something like this…the day had been hell.

She took as much of him into her mouth as possible, sucking him as she moved upward, eliciting moans from him.

"Jesus fuck, Quinn…" he muttered after one particular strong suck at his head. "Holy fuck…_fuck_…"

When she felt he was getting close by the movement of his hips, she took her mouth away to give herself a break and let him back off his orgasm a little. She could only do that a couple times though because he was _right on the edge_.

She placed her lips around him slowly, sucking him into her mouth, running her tongue around his head as she moved upward…using her hand to jack him off. She then started sucking him hard and fast, and he lost all control. He tapped her urgently on the shoulder but she just hummed on his cock.

"Oh…oh…_oh! _Fuck…damn…oh my god!" he cried out, jutting his hips to her mouth.

His come shot to the back of her throat, straight down, she barely tasted it. After three expulsions, she pulled away to watch it slowly exude from his tip and then licked it off. His semen was thick and white, salty but not distasteful.

Her main problem now was her wet and very highly turned on vagina.

He was gasping and mumbling and cussing and looked altogether a different person when she stood up to face him, wiping her mouth with a Kleenex she found on the desk in the room.

He was still gripping the hem of his shirt up to his chest, his pupils blown black when he finally looked at her.

"Never have I ever had anything so intense happen to me, Quinn Fabray…" he said, finally lowering his shirt slowly. "You are beautiful and so, so talented."

She laughed, letting him embrace her, his half-hard penis hanging between them.

"You know what happens to me when I do that?" she asked him.

He kissed the top of her head. "What?"

"I am so turned on right now…"

He looked shocked. "I didn't think that kind of thing did it for girls…"

"You thought wrong!" she said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the desk. "I do need a little help…"

He smirked and pulled up his Spiderman briefs and slacks as she sat on the edge of the desk. She guided him between her legs. She used what appeared to be Mr. Pritchett's desk chair to prop up her right leg, then pulled Sam close for a kiss. She felt his hands pushing at her skirt.

"I've, um, never really, uh, touched a girl…"

She took his right hand and guided it to between her legs. She let him explore with his fingers over the damp fabric of the black lace panties.

"Oh…" he muttered, feeling how wet she was. "Oh…god…"

He kept moving his fingers over the fabric until she finally took his hand and moved the fabric aside slightly. She felt him shudder when he touched her _there_, realizing she was bare and swollen and hot. She opened her eyes; he was watching what his hand did. She realized his slacks were tented again; his other hand rubbing absentmindedly over himself.

When his middle finger finally slipped between her folds, she nearly came off the desk and had to bite her lip from crying out in pleasure. His finger first made contact with her entrance…it was a teasing sensation to her. He then instinctively slid his finger upward, finding her swollen clit.

He was still kissing her now and again. When his finger brushed over her there, she moaned his name.

"There, Sam, right there…don't stop…" she gasped, her hips jutting for friction.

She realized his hand was now in his pants, jerking furiously at himself.

He played with her clit for a little while, bringing her to the brink, then slid his finger downward, back to her entrance. He pressed hesitantly there, waiting for her reaction, then slowly pushed his finger in. He groaned along with her. He moved his finger in and out, then added a second finger.

"So wet…" he mumbled to her. His lips met hers, not holding back any passion, and he shuddered next to her, gasping and whispering _oh god _over and over again.

He moved his fingers out of her and back to her clit, sensing she was close. He rubbed circles around her swollen flesh, then tapped her lightly, then just moved up and down, until her body was shaking from the orgasm. He kept his fingers on her while her body jerked and twitched and she moaned through her climax, bringing her down slowly. At the end of it all, he was standing between her legs, both of them breathing heavily against each other's neck.

"Did I do okay?" he finally asked her.

"Perfect, Samuel…"

"I came again…" he said, and they both glanced at the front of his trousers, a small stain forming there.

"I know…" she replied, smiling.

Gently, he moved to pull her skirt back down over her thighs. She chastely closed her legs to stand up and smooth the skirt down, then helped him straighten his clothing.

He held her in his embrace, then said, "I want so much more with you, Quinn."

She smiled and nodded. "Me too…"

He held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I-I think I-I think I…"

A loud knocking at the door caused them both to nearly scream.

"Mr. Evans? Sam? You're needed out front!" Bonnie, the clerk, hollered.

"Be right there, Bonnie!" Sam called, his voice higher than normal. He looked back to Quinn.

"Not yet, Sam…not yet…" she said, knowing what he was preparing to say to her before the knocking.

He looked a bit let-down but then smiled. "What are those things around your thighs?"

"Garters…to hold up the stockings…"

"Sexy…incredibly sexy…"

He kissed her once more, and they left his boss' office. Stopping to see Sam had definitely provided her with the release she sought. She tried to push out of her mind the fact that he was getting ready to mumble the L word to her. It scared her that she would've said the same thing back to him.


	11. Prepared

_**Chapter 11~Prepared**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

**M-rated!**

Quinn's clandestine tryst with Sam at the grocery store left her feeling relaxed, refreshed, and more able to cope with the information from her agent. In fact, her creative juices were flowing and for the next week she wrote fiendishly, finishing up the pregnancy story to coincide with the junior-senior prom where her friend Kurt was crowned 'prom queen'. She talked to him and his partner Blaine about sharing their story and they had agreed. She still had not figured out a way to tell Sam the truth behind what she wrote.

And he was becoming curious. Especially since her office was off-limits to him.

One hot day in late June, they were lounging next to the pool after having been swimming earlier.

"I'm taking a vacation at work," he mentioned casually, drawing his knees up.

"You are? When?"

"Around the Fourth of July...I thought I could help you out with this party you're putting on..." he told her. "You know, since your work has you kinda busy."

"Mmm...yeah..." she said, mostly to herself.

"So, will I see any of your writing in my English books this year?" he asked. He reached out and traced his index finger down her arm to her hand.

"I doubt it. I'm not sure what text exactly gets my work, to be honest," she said, lying.

"Maybe you could show me what you're working on to give me a jump start on my senior year?" he smiled at her.

"Now? During your summer vacation? Yuck..." Quinn said to him, entwining her fingers with his. "Let's just relax."

He laid his head back on the lounge chair. "Relaxing is good, too."

One aspect of their relationship that she had been missing was the fact that he could never spend the night. He had a curfew of midnight through the summer months. There were nights, though, after making out intensely that she just wanted to curl up with him and sleep and then have breakfast together in the morning. Not to mention, the making out needed to progress to something more..._penetrating_...Quinn thought. She felt he was ready for it as he neared his 18th birthday and she was pretty sure that he felt he was ready for it.

One day, they had walked to the quaint downtown on the island and had stopped at a flower shop. Quinn saw a pretty bouquet of flowers that she said would look nice in her dining room. Sam offered to buy them for her, and, when he had pulled his wallet from his back pocket and opened it, two condoms flew out onto the counter in front of Quinn and the cashier. She had never seen him blush so fiercely. He scrambled to grab them from the countertop and then shoved them back into his wallet and handed her the bouquet of flowers he had bought her. After leaving the store, she placed her hand gently on his arm and looked up at him.

"It's okay, Sam...you don't need to be embarrassed around me," she told him.

"I think the old lady saw them, though," he replied, still blushing.

She sniffed her blooms, the ones she said would look beautiful in her dining room, and hooked her arm through Sam's.

"So, how long have you had those stashed away in your wallet?" she asked him while they strolled.

He cleared his throat. "Um, just a week or so..."

She noticed that he found his sneakers extremely interesting by the way he was staring down at them, yet his cheeks were stained red. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, residents bustling past them.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him softly on the lips.

"Thank you for being prepared, Sam," she whispered. She took his hand and led him down the street toward her house.

_xxxxx_

A new story in _The Unholy Trinity _series was published the week before the Fourth of July, creating renewed furor over the author. Signa Publishing now used one of its known pen names as the author so the media was well aware that the true author's name was not being released just yet. It was the second story in the pregnancy tale, where Kelley comes clean about the father of her baby. Not only was the media in an uproar over not knowing who the author was, but the readers and fans of the stories were also in a tizzy about the storyline. The amount of fanmail Signa was receiving was 'unbelievable', so claimed Marcy, who also informed Quinn that the bosses there were loving all the press and no one had even remotely guessed who the author was.

At the moment, Quinn was in the middle of re-writing the story about being kicked out of her parent's home due to the unplanned pregnancy. It was a difficult story to put into words for her; she referred to the notes she had written when it actually happened. Since the birth and adoption of her daughter, she and her family had reconciled, only after a ton of counseling, and she felt a greater appreciation, especially from her father, for what she had endured then. Her parents called to check in on her usually weekly and ask about her writing and, of course, her mother was always checking on _The One_.

"You know, mother, I've met someone who is really great. He's nice, cute, he's different than the other guys...I'd say he has potential to be _The One_," Quinn told her one day.

Her mother squealed and started going on about how she wanted to meet him soon.

Quinn laughed. "I'm still getting to know him. Maybe you can meet him in the future...sometime..."

"How about the Fourth of July? Your father and I could fly out…" Judy suggested.

Quinn sighed a bit. She didn't want to say _no _to her mom but then again that would mean her family plus Sam's family all getting together under the same roof.

"Um, okay…great idea!" Quinn forced herself to say cheerfully.

Her mother was full of ideas about having a picnic on the Fourth and was also anxious to see what Quinn had done with her house since their last visit.

After speaking with her mother, Quinn's phone rang again…this time it was Santana.

"I keep hearing stuff in the press about Signa and _The Unholy Trinity _series, Q! They must be ecstatic with the kind of publicity this is drumming up," Santana said.

"I think they're pleased. I'm not sure how I'll deal with it with it finally comes up who the author is," Quinn said, nibbling a fingernail. "Lots of good buzz from Signa about the Kit/Blaze prom story and how that turned out." Kit and Blaze were the character names for their friends Kurt and Blaine. "I'm doing a few re-writes for the book about getting kicked out and moving from house to house to house, then the fourth book will be the delivery and prom scene."

"Great…glad to hear it. Britt-Britt wants to know if you're still robbing the cradle," Santana asked. Quinn could hear them both snickering.

"As a matter of fact, I _am_! And you know what? It's freakin' awesome!" Then Quinn had an idea. "Do you two have any plans for the Fourth?"

"Hmm…not really…is that an invite? Do we get to babysit…I mean, _meet_…the young Sam?" Santana giggled.

"I'd be happy to introduce you to Sam, as long as you're on your best behavior, San," Quinn warned. "He's a great guy and I don't want _anything _to screw this up. Also, my parents will be here…and so will his family."

Santana rattled off something in Spanish, which reminded Quinn of Ricky Ricardo when he was exasperated with Lucy, but then Santana agreed to be there and on the best behavior she could manage.

_xxxxx_

Sam came over to Quinn's after work, and they relaxed in her hot tub for a bit, then took a stroll along the beach in the moonlight.

"Um, Sam, I need to tell you something..." Quinn told him. He had been babbling about plans for their Fourth of July picnic.

"Sure..."

"I invited some other people to the cookout...like, um, my parents and, um, my friends," she said, gauging his reaction. He looked at her like a golden retriever.

"Awesome! I can't wait to meet them!" he said with total exuberance. "How many more...so I know what to get from Pritchett's?"

"Um, my mom and dad and Santana and Brittany...San and Britt are my good friends from high school and they're, uh, well, they're married," Quinn finally blurted out.

"Oh, cool. The more, the merrier, right?" he said, smiling.

"Something you should know about Santana; she's a lawyer and, well, says what she thinks...a lot. Brittany is sweet, so sweet. Just go with whatever she says," Quinn told him.

Sam sat down on the sand, pulling Quinn down with him so that she sat between his legs, his arms wrapped around her, and they both faced the ocean.

For awhile, they were both quiet, looking at the tide and the innumerable stars overhead. She then felt his supple lips on her neck, his breath warm against her skin. She tilted her head a little to her left, giving him access to her earlobe. He nibbled there, then whispered into her ear, "I can't stop thinking about the other night, Quinn."

His breath sent shivers coursing through her body; she felt goosebumps pop out all over her bare skin.

She tried to speak but no words came out at first.

"I-I can't stop thinking about it either..." she whispered back to him.

His hands had been wrapped around her waist, and he moved them to her wrists, then slowly up her arms, still kissing and sucking at her neck. Her hands had been laced in front of her drawn-up knees, but she moved them to his bare thighs, rubbing slowly down to his knees, then back upward. He drew his knees upward at her touch. His hands snaked around to her tummy, his fingers touching her bare belly. He kissed from her ear, down her neck, to her shoulder, making her whimper quietly. She could feel his excitement growing behind her, nudging at her lower back.

His hands crept up to her breasts, cupping both of them over her bra, then sliding underneath her undergarment to caress her, skin to skin.

His touch and voice and breathing awakened something deep inside her, tingling, causing her to squirm and moan. Finally, she couldn't take not facing him any longer and turned and straddled him. He hungrily lifted her top and her bra and his mouth was on her in an instant.

Quinn arched her back when Sam's lips landed on her breast. He kissed all around her nipple, then took that into his mouth, sucking gently on her. Her eyes were closed, head dropped back, her hips grinding on his hardness. The breeze from the sea would pass over her, causing her to shiver, causing him to moan. His hands were on her hips, pushing her down to him in a rhythm that was unmistakeable.

She pulled herself away from him and slid down between his legs, tugging at his shorts. Once his cock was exposed to the cool air, he grunted.

"I want you to watch me," she said, looking up at him, her mouth ready to take him.

A quick flash of lightning, then low rumble of thunder in the distance made Quinn hesitate for a mere second. She then had his length in her mouth, as much as she could take, causing him to let loose with a string of swear words.

He was hot, swollen, tender, and she picked up a faint scent of herself there. The wind picked up, she could hear the waves crashing behind her, more lightning and thunder, but Sam was watching her, hips gently rocking with her mouth.

Sprinkles of rain started falling and over the sound of the ocean and the thunder Quinn could hear Sam's heated grunts, which soon turned into formed words.

"Quinn...god, please..." He tapped her urgently on the shoulder, but she only glanced up at him and shook her head _no_ slightly. He still gazed down at her.

There was a closer flash of lightning, followed quickly by a clap of thunder, and Sam came into her mouth, crying out with the storm.

Her tongue licked him at his most sensitive spot, causing him to squirm and jerk inside her mouth.

Finally, with the rain really coming down, he tapped her shoulder again and she crawled up over him and kissed him, long and hard.

"We gotta get inside!" he hollered at her over the storm. He stood and pulled her up, and they ran for her house hand-in-hand. On her porch, they were both laughing, out of breath, while Quinn unlocked the front door.

Inside, they went to the downstairs guestroom and grabbed towels from that bathroom.

Sam was still laughing. He wrapped his towel around her and pulled her close to him. "That was the best, Quinn Fabray...I don't even know how to explain it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed..." she said, kissing him softly.

"I know!" he nearly shouted, then spoke quietly. "I know what to do to make you understand..."

He pushed her slowly toward the bed. "Is it okay? To maybe use this bed?" he asked her, now back to kissing her.

She nodded, mumbled something, and moved backward until she felt the comforter brush behind her knees.

"These gotta go..." he said, pushing her damp shorts down. "God, you're so hot..." He was looking her up and down.

"I look like a hot wet mess right now, Sam," she giggled. His fingers, though callused, touched her skin lightly, right where the waistband of her panties sat.

He pushed those down slowly until they just slid the rest of the way down her legs to the floor.

"I've never done this before, so if I'm horrible just don't laugh..." he said to her, nudging her a bit to sit back on the bed. He looked at her and raised one eyebrow and glanced down at her very naked lady bits.

"Oh!" she said, suddenly getting it. She scooted back on the bed, and he slowly climbed over her.

"Naked...I want you, um, naked..." he stammered. He helped her get her soaked top off and then it was all about her.

He kissed all the way down her body, pushing far up over her to start on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her earlobes (which made her squeal), her neck, her collarbone, his hands caressing her arms as he moved slowly downward. He gave attention to both her breasts with his hands and his lips and his tongue.

Before he moved farther down, he stopped and said, "I've watched a little, uh, porn so just tell me what to do if I'm doing it wrong and-"

She groaned. "Just do _it_!" And couldn't stifle a giggle that slipped out.

He looked at her, smiling, hovering over her bellybutton. "A little anxious, are we?"

"More than a little, Sam!"

The lightning and thunder were still raging overhead, lighting up the room every once in awhile, rumbling through the sky. Sam continued kissing his way down her belly, then she felt his lips on the tops of her thighs, his hair tickling her lower belly. Wondering how she felt, he gently ran a finger over her pussy.

"Damn, Quinn..you _are _ready..." he practically growled, smirking at her moan.

Under her breath, she whispered _I know I know I know_...

He got comfortable on his belly and gazed at her for a moment before going to work. Her thighs were thin but muscular. She was completely smooth in that region. They had left the bathroom light on so he could see a little bit of her in the darkness. He began by kissing the outside of her lips. As soon as his mouth touched her, she bucked her hips up to him.

"I'm so sorry, Sam...it just...oh my god..."

She was completely on edge, he could tell. Her vagina was swollen and engorged, much like he was becoming again. He blew softly on her, then kept kissing her, using just his lips, no tongue yet. He could tell she was getting antsy, waiting on his tongue, _needing _it...before that, though, he needed to see her.

He really wasn't sure what to expect. He _had _done his homework, and had quite enjoyed that homework, because he didn't want to wind up between her legs and not know what to do. He had seen pictures in magazines and on the internet and of course videos, but all vaginas looked different to him. Some good, some not so good. What he was looking at now was perfection, he thought. He ran a finger over her once more, causing her to shudder as he teased her. He was incredibly horny himself and wasn't sure if he would last licking her pussy.

He lowered his face to her, kissing her where he thought her clitoris should be, but still not inside her folds. He pushed his tongue into those folds and was surprised by her reaction. She lifted her hips off the bed and was whining, kind of a high-pitched breathy sound.

"God, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" he said, worried that it was indeed him.

She looked down at him, panting. "Sam, for the love of god, _don't stop anymore_!"

She plopped back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut. _If I don't get off in the next five minutes, heads are gonna roll!_

He immediately put his mouth on her, licking at her folds, loving every sound he heard from above. In the faint light, he could tell her vagina was pink, blushing almost. Her clit was like a tiny flower bud, and he sucked on it like his life depended on it. And, in a way, it totally did. She moved her hips up and down slowly, and he figured out the rhythm, using his tongue on her clit, then even pushing it into her like he would with his fingers. Then, he had the best idea ever...use his fingers and tongue together! He began pressing his hips against the bed, rubbing his cock against the fabric of his briefs.

Once he used his fingers and tongue together, Quinn came within thirty seconds. Once she had stopped moaning and trembling, he pushed up over her, his lower face shiny with her juices. She didn't hesitate to kiss him. The whole thing had been incredibly erotic.

"How was it? Was I okay? Did anything happen for you? It happened again for me!" he said, his words coming out fast. "I think I'm getting used to coming in my pants around you!"

She snorted; she couldn't help it. She rolled toward him and melted into his arms. "It was great, Sam. You did spectacularly."

"Thank god..." he mumbled to himself. Then, to her, "You are so much more beautiful than I ever knew...if you want, I could do that all night for you."

As enticing as _that _idea sounded, Quinn just giggled quietly. She was suddenly fully aware that she was lying on a bed, completely stark naked, with Sam, who was wearing only his shorts that apparently he had just ejaculated in.

He was nipping at her neck, kissing her cheek, and she turned toward him so he could kiss her fully on the mouth. Before she could even consider what she was doing, she pulled him on top of her, wanting to feel his weight against her. He settled between her legs, pressing against her.

"Is that what it feels like?" he asked between kisses.

"Kinda..." she mumbled back. She could feel him hardening again as he pushed against her but then he stopped.

Resting on his elbows just over her, he said quietly, "I really, _really _want to do this with you, Quinn..."

She sensed a bit of hesitancy in his voice, though. She ran her hands through his still-damp hair. "S'okay, Sam...we're taking it slow, remember?"

"Yeah...I don't want to screw anything up with you..." he whispered, kissing her before he rolled to her side.

"You won't..." she mumbled, curling into him. That was the last thing she remembered saying to him.

_xxxxx_

The sun woke her up in the morning. She had slept the rest of the night in the guestroom. Sam must've slipped out at some point to meet curfew. She relived those few moments of being next to him and drifting off to sleep. She wanted _that_ every night, dammit.

She could lie in the guestroom bed all day and ponder this or she could get herself showered and dressed, check in with Signa, and begin preparing for her Fourth of July party in three days. She chose the latter.

_xxxxx_

After a long hot shower and reliving the night before, Quinn dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast, and retreated to her office. She had a text from Sam, _could do that all nite long_...and she had a text from Marcy to call her ASAP. She responded to Sam's text with a wink, then called Signa.

"Quinn, hello!" Marcy said after maybe a half a ring. Quinn had called her directly.

"I got your text...what's going on?"

"Well, unfortunately, we've had a mole..."

"Pardon?"

"A mole...an infiltrator...someone got in and found out who is authoring _The Unholy Trinity_ series, Quinn," Marcy told her flatly.

"I thought you said it was under terrific security, Marcy! What the hell!" Quinn yelled, her heart thumping in her throat. Shit...shit...shit...not now!

"We think it was someone from the mailroom...a new hire...who obviously was paid by a tabloid to find out what's going on. I'm really sorry, Quinn. I imagine it'll be released over the holiday weekend or they'll start calling you...I just wanted you to be prepared," Marcy told her.

"Thanks for the heads up, I guess," Quinn said, more than a little peeved.

"There is a bright side to all this," Marcy said, cheerfully.

"Really? The loss of my privacy?"

"Signa wants to amend your contract...in _your _favor, Quinn. More money girlfriend! They will want you to make appearances, book signings, and so forth. I'm Fed Exing an updated copy to you so you and your attorney can review it."

Quinn was quiet. More money would be nice but still her privacy was going to be invaded, not to mention her budding relationship with Sam and his family.

"Okay...I'll be watching for it. Thanks for letting me know," Quinn told Marcy and hung up.

Quinn sat in her office for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts about this. Her main concern was keeping her privacy intact as much as possible. She didn't want readers showing up at her house unannounced. She didn't want her relationship with Sam to be made public yet. On the other hand, doing a little traveling around the country sounded interesting and she wouldn't mind meeting her readers in that fashion. In addition to that mess, she had holiday festivities to plan.

She sighed and got to work.


	12. Family and Friends

_**Chapter 12~Family and Friends**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

With Sam's help and employee discount at Pritchett's, Quinn was able to obtain most of the food and drinks she'd need for the Fourth of July. Her parents were coming in on July 3, as well as Santana and Brittany. Sam's family would be over the entire day and night of the Fourth, then her overnight guests would be leaving on July 5.

Quinn was amused by how enthusiastic Sam was about meeting her family and friends. He wanted to help her clean up her house, make sure they had enough food and drink and anything else to make everyone comfortable. He got the pool and hot tub cleaned and did whatever she asked him to. She was glad he had taken some time off work to help her. One thing sitting at the back of her mind was how was she going to drop the 'bomb' to him about her real line of work.

Each time she considered broaching the topic with him, he'd come up with some idea for the holiday party...he wanted to grill out on the pool deck, he wanted to buy fireworks, he wanted to take Santana and Brittany on the ferry, he wanted to build a sand castle with his brother...his exuberance was almost exhausting but Quinn sat back and let him tell her everything he wanted to do and see and eat and drink. He also wanted to go with her to the airport to pick up her parents.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked him. They were sitting on her front porch swing the night before she was to pick up her parents. She was sitting in the crook of his arm.

"Totally sure. I want them to know who I am. You've told them about me, right?" he asked her.

Quinn thought of her mother hounding her about _The One_. "Yes...they know about you."

"Do they know about the age difference?"

"Um, no..."

"What will they say?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Just be yourself...they'll love you like-"

She cut herself off. She didn't want to go there just yet.

"Like a love song?" he asked, nudging her cheek with his nose.

"Exactly, like that..." she replied, giggling. "It's sticky out tonight..."

He agreed. "Let's go for a swim, what'd'ya say?"

"I say yes!"

She jumped off the porch swing and ran into the house. He followed her, locking the door behind him, and chasing her upstairs where she had a stash of his clothes, including swim trunks. She had finally cleared a drawer in her dresser for his stuff. He pulled out his black trunks; she chose her black bikini. They stripped down in front of one another; by this point, they were very comfortable dressing and undressing together.

Sam was faster than Quinn, so he made himself comfortable on her bed and watched her.

"You are so sexy, Quinn," he told her.

She was bent over, stepping into her bottoms. She glanced over at him and smiled a little, blushing.

"I have an idea..." she said, walking toward him. Seeing him sprawled out on her bed, sporting a semi, got her a little worked up too.

His eyes followed her. "Yeah?"

She crawled up toward him on her hands and knees, then sat on her knees next to him. "Let's have a contest..."

He scooted over a bit to give her some room. "What kind of contest are we talking?" He looked at her funny and raised one eyebrow.

"Let's see who can go the longest...without having an orgasm!" she said, throwing herself back on the pillows, squealing.

"Really? You're serious? I can totally outlast you..." he said, which she had not expected. "Ground rules?"

"We make out a little, you know, to get things going, then it's hands to ourselves," she said, rolling over and lying directly on top of him.

"Okay, but that's not helping..." he said, chuckling. He could see her cleavage, right in front of his face, and then she was running her fingers through his hair. He moved his hands up over her bare back, then down to her butt. She kissed him softly, sucking his bottom lip.

"So, can we watch each other...or...?" he asked her. "'Cause I'm ready to go."

She rolled back onto her back, next to him. "You can watch if you want..."

He ran his palm over the front of his trunks as she slid her hand down her belly to her bottoms. She watched him lift his hips and push his trunks down, so she did the same with her bikini bottoms.

"Check this out..." he murmured to her, then used his groin muscles to move his cock on its own. "No hands!"

"Oh my god, Sam!" she said, rolling her eyes. "Look what I'm doing..."

She had slid her fingers down to her vagina, caressing herself while watching him. His hand went to his dick like they were magnetized, his eyes on her hand.

"Holy shit...that's hot..."

She pushed her finger in between her folds, knowing she was wet, already turned on by watching him change clothes. She gasped a little when she rubbed over her clit.

Sam's arm was pumping up and down pretty quickly. "Did you just...did you just _touch _yourself?"

She nodded, biting down on her lip. She closed her eyes, enjoying herself by just listening to his breathing and mumbling.

She could feel his eyes on her and that just intensified how she was feeling. She knew exactly how to get herself off in 3 minutes flat, but she had to extend it this time as long as possible. And it wasn't easy, with him right next to her, doing his own thing, huffing and panting and grunting.

Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed her earlobe and that nearly did it for her.

"I couldn't help it..." he mumbled quickly, leaning back.

She switched hands between her legs, putting her wet fingers on his thigh, then leaned over and kissed his earlobe. His eyes rolled back in his head.

"Fair is fair," she gasped out.

"You're sabotaging me..." he mumbled.

His grip was tight on his cock, white knuckled. She watched him dip his long fingers down to his balls, cupping them, _caressing _them, his penis slightly trembling at his touch, then his hand moved back up the length of his shaft, slowly, to his tip, then slowly back down, pushing himself through his fist slowly, until his fingers touched his balls again...and she teetered over the edge, her orgasm causing her to arch her back, shaking. Her entire body was tingling.

"_Mmm...mmm...mmm...umf..._" He was trying to hold back.

She opened one eye and peeked at him. He was glancing at her, then his hand on his dick, then coming up onto his belly, thrusting his hips into his hand hard.

It was hard to not tear her eyes from his abs, now covered in his jizz. He held the base of his penis as he ejaculated; she saw him shoot strings of come onto himself. It spilled over onto his fingers, as he rubbed himself down from his climax. She saw one tiny drop of semen on his nipple; she pushed up onto an elbow and licked it off him.

"Oh my god...are you trying to kill me?" he mumbled, chuckling a bit in the quiet. "Wait...did I win?"

She laughed and slugged his arm. "You grabbing your balls did it, Sam...ugh!"

He rolled toward her, tickling her a little.

"Can I tell you now?" he asked.

"You'll know when...and right now is not it...right now, it's time to swim!" She rolled off the bed, pulling her bottoms into place, and ran out of her bedroom with him hot on her heels.

_xxxxx_

"How do I look?"

"You look very handsome," Quinn answered, scanning the crowd at the airport.

"No, really...how do I look?" Sam asked again. He was messing with navy blue tie to make sure it was straight. Quinn thought he looked perfect, navy trousers and a tie, baby blue button-down shirt. He had even put product in his hair, spiking up the top a bit.

"You look absolutely fine."

"Are you sure? I don't like a douche, do I?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand to keep him from fiddling with his tie.

"Would I lie to you?" she said, cringing inwardly at her words. She had lied to him, about her job, and she still wasn't sure how to open that particular can of worms.

He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "No, I can trust you...I must look gorgeous."

Quinn snorted. Sam moved behind her to watch the disembarking passengers fill the terminal. "I'm wearing Batman boxers today," he whispered to her.

She elbowed him in the gut. _How dare he put that image into her head just as her parents appeared?_

"I see them!" she said, excitedly. "Mom! Daddy!"

"Quinnie!" Judy shouted across the lobby area, spotting Quinn. She ran up to her and hugged her tightly with Russell Fabray following her. He looked at Sam, smiled, and shook his hand.

"So you must be _The One_, eh?" Russell asked, winking slightly then chuckling. "I'm Russell Fabray, Quinn's father."

"_Daddy!_" Quinn hissed, overhearing him use the term _The One_.

Sam was too nervous to notice. He shook Russell's hand heartily.

"Welcome to Charleston, sir. I'm Sam Evans, a friend of Quinn's," Sam said by way of introduction.

"Sam!" Judy said, letting go of Quinn and pushing her aside. She hugged Sam as he peeked at Quinn nervously. "Quinn hasn't told us much about you! You look familiar, though."

Judy glanced at Quinn.

"So, Sam, what do you do?" Russell asked him, as they walked to the baggage claim.

Sam cleared his throat. "I go to school in the area, sir, and work part-time at a grocery store."

Russell clapped him on the back. "Nothing like a little honest work to make it feel all worth it."

Sam had no idea what he was talking about.

Quinn and her mother followed Sam and her father. Judy interlocked arms with Quinn.

"So, Quinnie, why does he look so familiar to me? He sure is easy on the eyes," Judy asked her quietly.

Quinn decided not to remind her mother of seeing Sam at the seafood restaurant when he was arguing with his then-girlfriend Betsy.

"Maybe someone on TV or something. He's a fine Southern gentleman, handsome and charming," Quinn replied.

"So...is he _The..._"

"Mother!" Quinn hissed. "We'll talk more later. Santana and Brittany are flying in tonight and Sam's family is coming over tomorrow."

"Wonderful! I can't wait to meet his family and see Santana and Brittany. Such sweet girls...oh, Russell, don't forget my makeup bag!" Judy said, catching up to the two men at the luggage carousel.

When they had finally pulled off all their bags (four in total), Sam insisted on pushing the luggage cart to the exit, then pulling up Quinn's car. He loaded the car, then got behind the wheel, after Quinn and her mother climbed in the backseat. Sam took his time driving very carefully while trying to hold an awkward conversation with Quinn's father.

Judy patted Quinn's knee. "So, you two are pretty serious, then? He's driving your car."

Quinn shrugged a bit and smiled. "We're just taking things slowly right now." She sat directly behind Sam and looked at his hair, newly trimmed, and suddenly wanted to run her fingers through it.

"Does he know about..._your stories_?"

Quinn looked at her sharply and shook her head _no_. "Not at all, not yet anyway."

Judy nodded knowingly and nudged her way into the front-seat conversation.

"The weather is beautiful here...so much nicer than dreary Ohio! We've had too much rain this year..." she said.

"Do you like the ocean, Mrs. Fabray?" Sam asked over his shoulder but keeping his eyes on the road.

"Oh, how I love the ocean! And call me Judy please," she said, giggling.

"Sure, Judy," Sam said, tossing a lopsided smile back at her.

Judy looked at Quinn, and Quinn could almost swear her mother was _giddy_.

_xxxxx_

They spent the morning and afternoon at Quinn's, Quinn catching up with her parents, Sam fiddling around in the kitchen preparing lunch, then swimming right before noon. While Russell and Judy were sunning themselves on the pool deck, Quinn helped Sam in the kitchen.

"So, what do you think of them?" she asked him, scooting around him in her white crocheted coverup, barefoot. He had been swimming in a pair of very conservative and long black trunks but now was in cargo shorts and a polo. He was working at the counter, slicing tomatoes. She slid in between him and the tomatoes.

"They seem really cool...I think your mom has, um, a crush on me..." he said, smiling, paying all his attention to Quinn.

"Oh, is that so?" she purred, sliding her hands up his tanned arms to his broad shoulders.

"Mhmm...while we were swimming, I caught her trying to check out my business..." he said, laughing.

"I guess I come by it honestly then..." she said, laughing too. "I happen to like your business..._a lot_..."

"I like it that you like my business and I like yours too..." he replied. "Is it just me or is it odd standing here talking about our business?"

They both laughed. She love-tapped his ass and picked up a tray of sweet tea he had prepared.

"You're becoming quite the culinary connoisseur," she called over her shoulder as she did her best sexy walk to the back door. He went back to slicing tomatoes and shaking his head, smiling but keeping her in his peripheral vision.

After a couple more hours of inappropriate flirting with Sam and awkward conversation with Quinn's father, her parents decided to nap until dinnertime while Sam and Quinn went back to the airport to retrieve Santana and Brittany.

"So, tell me about your friends...what should I expect?" Sam asked Quinn while they waited for Santana and Brittany's flight to touch down.

"Well, Santana is a spunky Latina. She's a lawyer; my lawyer, in fact. She speaks her mind, sometimes in Spanish. And she and Britt-Britt are legally married. Brittany is like the complete opposite of San, and I guess that's why they get along so well. Opposites attract maybe? Britt is tall, blonde, a dancer, and slightly ditzy. Well, more than slightly ditzy...she says odd things but she's totally with it. The three of us have been besties since third grade," Quinn told him. "We've been through a lot together."

"So, are we opposites then?" he asked her, linking his fingers with hers.

She dipped her head, looking at their hands interlocked. "In some ways, yes."

"_Hola, mamacita!_" A commanding yet sexy voice pierced the departing passenger crowd. Quinn grabbed Sam's hand tightly.

"That's Santana..." she whispered to him, pulling him to stand next to her.

Sam saw Brittany first, taller than most of the crowd, a blonde skinny girl looking somewhat confused. Then, Santana burst through the crowd, leading Brittany, and was suddenly hugging Quinn. Brittany made the hug a three-way and then pulled Sam in with them.

"So you're Quinn's lobster?" Brittany asked him once they all pulled away from the embrace. She stared at him, a slight smile playing at her lips.

Sam wasn't sure how to respond, so he smiled and said, "Of course I am."

Brittany clapped and jumped up and down. "I knew it!"

Quinn and Santana had been talking about their flight from New York when Santana turned her gaze to Sam.

"You must be _el joven amante _of Quinn," Santana purred, mixing her English and Spanish. She smiled a sly smile at Sam. Sam glanced to Quinn, then back to Santana.

"You must be Quinn's _buenos amigos_," he replied with his lopsided grin.

Santana looked at Quinn, still smiling. "_Pez boca!_" Quinn shrugged. She didn't know much Spanish at all.

"Fish mouth..." Brittany said nonchalantly. "But he's _bellisimo_."

"Aye..." Santana said in agreement. She then stuck her hand out to Sam. "Hello Sam. I'm Santana Lopez-Spears; this is my wife Brittany Lopez-Spears."

Sam shook her hand firmly, holding her gaze. "It's a pleasure and an honor to meet Quinn's closest friends."

"It's very nice to finally meet you, as well," Santana replied. Turning to Quinn, she asked what was for dinner.

"Um, Sam had planned on grilling-"

Santana shook her head vigorously. "Tonight, supper is on me and Britts."

"Oh no, San...really..." Quinn started. Sam pulled their luggage off the carousel with the help of Brittany pointing them out to him.

Santana hooked her arm through one of Quinn's arms and Brittany the other arm.

"It's the very least we could do, Q," Santana said, smiling. Sam followed the three girls, linked arm in arm.

_xxxxx_

That evening, Quinn found herself seated between her parents, Santana to her left, Brittany to her right, and Sam across the table from her at Hank's, the seafood place she loved. She only picked at her shrimp, keeping her eyes on Sam, while the others ate as if they'd never seen food. Santana had Oysters Rockefeller and was slurping those back one by one as Brittany gnawed her way through swordfish. Quinn's parents were shooting rapid-fire questions at her in between bites and she'd answer with a distant _mhmm_ or _sure_ or _sounds fine_ or _great_, always watching Sam across from her, quietly eating a salad. Sam's eyes were on her through the meal, as well, a small smile playing at his lips. A bottle of wine was opened and glasses filled with Sam and Quinn both abstaining. By the end of the dinner, while her father enjoyed a post supper cigar and the other ladies a cigarette, Quinn made her way to Sam and sat comfortably on his knee.

"Your family is...entertaining," Sam whispered to her, keeping one arm chastely wrapped behind her and the other hand on the table.

"Oh yes...especially once they get into the booze," she agreed, laughing. "I hope your family likes them."

"They get along with anyone...I'm sure it'll be a great day tomorrow...great night too," he said, quietly, pecking her on the cheek. He then whispered, "I want you to make me see fireworks."

She giggled into his kiss.

"Sam! Quinnie! We're going for after-dinner drinks! What's hoppin' in these parts?" Judy hollered at them.

"Um, mom, actually I'm heading back home…it's going to be a long day tomorrow…I need my beauty rest," Quinn laughed nervously. She didn't want to encourage club-hopping mainly due to who hits the clubs with their parents and Sam was underage.

Judy groaned loudly. "Don't be such a _drag_, Quinnie! C'mon!" Santana and Brittany joined in on the peer pressure also.

"Really, guys, I need some rest…you all go and have fun. Don't get into any trouble and call a cab to get back to my place," Quinn told them.

They tried for only a couple minutes then longer to get Sam and Quinn to go to a nearby bar, then gave up and left.

Once Sam got Quinn home, he had to head back to his house to meet curfew. They stood next to his car, kissing and maybe fondling one another a bit.

"So, fireworks, hmm?" she asked him quietly.

"If we can pull it off…I'm ready, Quinn," he told her, looking deep into her eyes.

She bit her lower lip, restraining herself from pulling him up to her bedroom.

"Okay, Sam…yes, I'm ready too," she whispered.

**A/N: Sorry if my Spanish sucked! El joven amante is meant to be "the young lover" of Quinn. :))**


	13. Fireworks

_**Chapter 13~Fireworks**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

The next day, Quinn and her guests slept in late, expecting Sam and his family to be there around noon to celebrate the Fourth of July. Quinn awoke to the smell of bacon frying, though. She slipped downstairs at 7:30 to find Sam preparing breakfast in her kitchen.

"Good morning, beautiful!" he said, cheerfully. He put a lid over the skillet of crackling bacon, then turned and brought Quinn into his arms. He inhaled her scent, then let out a contented sigh.

"Good morning to you," she murmured into his shoulder. She had given him a key recently so he could unload her grocery delivery from Pritchett's.

He rubbed her back slowly, noting she was wearing one of his t-shirts and panties only.

"God, you're so warm and cuddly...I kinda just wanna go crawl back into bed with you..." he mumbled, his lips tracing the curve of her neck. She had noticed he was definitely getting more sure of what he was doing with her..._to _her...lately.

Unfortunately, they both heard the toilet flush from the downstairs guestroom, where her parents were sleeping. They groaned and pulled away from one another.

"I need to go get dressed. I also need to talk to you later, in private. Your delicious breakfast is waking the house up," she said, _tsk-tsking _him. She slipped back upstairs, just as she heard her father enter the kitchen asking about coffee.

At first Sam was baffled by Quinn's request to speak with him privately but then he was side-tracked by Russell asking about coffee and how he had brewed it and how only men drank coffee with no cream and no flavors and no sugar..._strong and bitter_, he said laughing and pouring himself a cup of decaf. Sam decided to let that one ride.

_xxxxx_

"I love the purple sheers in the green room, Q," Santana told her later over breakfast on the pool deck. Quinn had placed Santana and Brittany in the green guestroom upstairs. "It makes the room _pop_."

Quinn smiled. "Purple was Sam's idea, actually."

"Really? So he's a decorator too?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana.

The entire house was awake now, enjoying Sam's breakfast or taking a long bath (Judy) or planted in front of the TV watching the morning news and stocks (Russell) or sunning by the pool (Brittany). Quinn was watching Sam set up tables and chairs in her backyard for the picnic later on. Again, he looked handsome and every bit a man in another polo and cargo shorts.

"Does he know yet?" Santana asked her. "You are going to tell him, right?"

"He doesn't know yet and yes I'm going to tell him...soon. I have to...it's going to hit the news today or tomorrow most likely," Quinn said, sighing.

Santana groaned. "You probably need to prepare him somehow before he sees it on TMZ."

"Girls..." Judy sashayed out of the house, clutching a bloody Mary in her hand, wearing a swimsuit coverup over a bikini. "I slept wonderfully! The sound of the ocean is like a lullaby." Her eye caught Sam working in the yard. "Yoo hoo! Good morning, Samuel!"

Judy sat down with Quinn and Santana. "Quinnie, how much younger than you is that boy?"

Santana snorted.

"Mother...age makes no difference..."

"It does when the man...or _boy_...you're sleeping with is underage!"

"_Mother!_" Quinn hissed. "I am _not _sleeping with him!"

"Then what is this, Quinnie? Does he need a mommy figure in his life? Do you need a child to raise? Go adopt a dog, for chrissakes!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "He is my friend, my _dear _friend, and don't let me hear you speak of him again in that tone."

She glanced out at him in the yard, putting tablecloths on the tables. He caught her eye, smiled, and waved.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself; I just don't want to bail you out of the clink...got it?" her mother said. She then rolled her eyes, sighing, and said, "I hope he's not _The One_."

"I've got one of the best lawyers around, mother," Quinn said, sighing. Santana winked at her. "And he just might be _The One_…we'll see!"

"I'm sizzling, San...let's get wet," Brittany called from her lounge.

After more swimming, lounging about in the heat, and preparing the food for lunch, Sam came to Quinn to tell her he was going to pick up his family.

"Stinky and Stanky are looking forward to the pool," he laughed, circling his arms around her, kissing her cheek. "My parents are looking forward to coming over, too."

"It should be fun...you've done so much," she replied, thinking of the food and drink, the cleaning, the preparing, the fireworks...he had taken care of all of that while she, a lot of the time, cloistered herself in her office to work.

"This picnic is just as much for you as it is for them," he said. "You've been working so hard lately."

"Thanks Sam, I appreciate it," she said quietly. "Do you have a couple minutes before you leave?"

He checked his watch and frowned. "I'm already running behind...talk when I get back?"

She smiled. "Sure...sounds good."

_xxxxx_

He returned shortly with his family following him. Introductions were made all around, then Quinn got Sam's little brother and sister set up for the pool. The two moms and Santana and Brittany hit the hot tub while the two dads planted themselves in Quinn's living room to watch sports and manly things. Sam was busy grilling and Quinn kept herself busy by bustling between all the different factions and trying to be a good hostess.

She started first with the two dads, who had totally hit it off over ESPN.

"Can I bring you gentleman anything to drink? Snacks?" she asked them.

"Beer and pretzels, please," Sam's dad requested.

"Do you have any scotch?" her father asked.

Quinn returned with beer, pretzels, and a jigger of scotch. They had her TV on loud, watching a baseball game.

"Quinnie, did you know that Dwight here is a Reds fan? We love our Reds in Ohio," Russell said, clapping Sam's father on the shoulder.

"No, I didn't know that about Mr. Evans. Thanks for the info, dad," she said, smiling.

She left them to go check on the ladies in the hot tub.

"Don't stay in there too long, girls. Get out and hop in the pool every once in awhile," Quinn instructed them. She set down a tray holding a pitcher of smoothies and four glasses. "Sam whipped these up."

Santana snorted and Brittany said, "I bet he whipped something."

Quinn blushed, then added, "I added a little something-something to the smoothies...enjoy!"

As she walked toward the pool to the check on the kids, she heard her mother say happily, "Oooo...rum!"

"Hi Quinn!" Stacy yelled at her from the pool.

"Hi guys! Do you like the pool?" she asked them. She and Sam had made a special trip to the pool supply store for fun toys to add to her pool. The kids were loving them, as demonstrated by Stevie blowing water through a foam noodle onto his sister who squealed accordingly.

"I love it! Thank you for inviting us over," Stacy said for the third time since arriving at Quinn's. "Are you getting in the pool soon?"

The heat was bearing down on her, and she was sweating. "I think I will. I'll go check on your brother, then hop in, 'kay?"

"Cool!"

Quinn made her way to Sam who was tending the grill. He was a hot and sweaty mess.

"You should get in the pool with us, Smelly," she said, sliding her arm around his waist. "All our parents are getting sufficiently liquored up...the kids are playing in the pool...me and you should..." She kissed his neck.

"And let these wieners burn?" he said, grunting. "Are you insane, woman?"

"Hmm...burning wieners..." She pinched his ass and wandered back into the house.

Quinn wandered back into the kitchen to check on food and drink stuff, took another beer and scotch to the men in the living room and told them to come swimming, now noting they were watching golf. She then went upstairs and changed into her swimsuit and returned to the hot tub to check on those ladies whom she reminded to hit the pool to cool off. She took the tray and empty pitcher and glasses to the kitchen, put them in the dishwasher, then went back outside to the pool.

The water felt wonderful in the heat. She played with the kids in a great water pistol fight, then the other adults with the exception of Sam joined her and the kids in the pool. There was a lot of laughing and dunking and playing and lounging for quite some time. Eventually, though, hunger took over as they watched Sam set up the outside tables with cold salads and chips and drinks, then the meat from the grill. Finally, he announced lunch was served.

Quinn and the rest dried off and while everyone made their way to the tables set up in the yard, Quinn caught up with Sam in the kitchen.

She pulled him against her, hooking her fingers in the belt loops of his shorts.

"I can't wait to have my hands all over you, Sam Evans...you are one hot-as-hell chef..." she purred into his ear.

He arched his back a little, anxious for the closeness to her. They both had their heads bowed to one another as he pressed his groin against hers. His hands found their way to her bare midriff; he held her in place against him while he began to nibble on her neck. She giggled into his shoulder.

"We should probably get back outside...they'll wonder what happened to us..." she murmured.

"They can wait..." he murmured back. She felt his length against her hip...she had the sudden urge to go down on him right there, in the middle of all her stainless steel appliances with their family in the backyard.

Her hand slipped down to the front of his shorts, causing him to arch his back a bit more, pressing into her hand. "It doesn't take long, does it?" she asked.

"No, god no..."

The back door slammed, and Quinn's hand quickly disappeared from the front of Sam's shorts. They both looked over to see Stevie staring at them, his mouth agape. He then turned and ran back outside, hollering, "THEY'RE KISSING!"

They looked at each other and smiled. "Listen, you wanted to talk to me about something?" he asked her.

"It can wait..." She didn't want to spoil their moment with her news.

Stevie returned. "Santana said to 'break it up because she wants relish dammit'."

"I'll take it to her," Quinn said, grabbing it from the fridge. "C'mon, Stank, I'll race ya!"

They took off running to the backyard together.

Lunch went well. Quinn's parents got along with Sam's parents, his kid siblings were well liked, Santana managed to be on her best behavior, and everyone loved Brittany.

After lunch, everyone picked up a dish or plate or glass and carried it back into the kitchen. Later, Quinn pinpointed that as the time where everything began to slide downhill.

In Quinn's kitchen, everyone was standing around chatting, wrapping salads and the grilled meats to refrigerate, cleaning utensils, or just drinking (Judy).

"Hey, Sammy, did you pack those Spiderman and Batman divers?" Stevie asked him, anxious to get back to the pool.

Sam, standing at the sink, thought a moment and then said, "Yeah, in my duffel bag right next to the washer and dryer."

Stevie clamored off to the garage, then returned, holding a couple shiny-wrapped condoms up for the world to see.

"Are these, like, new Pokemon trading cards or something?" Stevie asked from the middle of all Quinn's guests. The room was suddenly quiet with the exception of Santana snorting.

Sam glanced over his shoulder, then back to the sink, then back to his little brother.

"Is that gum?" Brittany asked. "Can I have a piece?"

Santana whispered to her what Stevie was holding up.

"Oh, I'm good, thanks," Brittany said in the horrible silence.

"God, Stevie! Gimme those!" Sam yelled suddenly, breaking out of his stunned trance, crossing the kitchen to grab them from the boy. He then ran to the half bathroom off the kitchen and slammed the door.

The conversation in the kitchen resumed as if nothing had happened. Sam re-emerged from the bathroom, his cheeks flushed, and returned to his work at the sink. The two dads had moved back into the living room, parking themselves in front of the TV once again, when the doorbell rang. Sam had just dried his hands and said he'd answer it since Quinn was engaged in a conversation with the womenfolk about what kind of flowers she should plant around her porch and it gave him an excuse to get away from the occasional snicker.

"Quinn!" Sam hollered from the front door. "You need to sign for this!"

Quinn, followed by the women, went to the front door. She signed for the package, from Signa Publishing, and they stood around the foyer, still discussing flowers.

The volume on the TV increased.

"…identity of _The Unholy Trinity _series has been made known!" a voice bellowed. "Quinn Fabray, originally from Lima, Ohio, graduate of Yale University and The College of Charleston, has been named as the author of this very well selling, highly in demand series of young adult titles."

Quinn signed for the package, noting it was from Signa. Her contract.

The E! Breaking News correspondent Miss J from America's Next Top Model was going on...Quinn looked up to see herself in her Cheerios regalia from tenth grade, her senior picture, and then her jaw dropped. There was a picture of her kissing Sam tenderly on the walk in front of the floral shop, the bouquet tucked in the crook of her arm as she cupped his face in her hands. Someone had infiltrated her private world already.

"And what's _this_? It seems this white-hot author is robbing the cradle! You take care of that young man, Miss Thang!" Miss J said with a trademark snap.

The other news correspondent, Quinn didn't know who she was, was talking about how Quinn's stories were based on her own life experiences, including the newly published pregnancy story. Quinn swallowed and looked around the room. Her dad was fiddling with the remote, trying to change the channel or mute it or anything, Sam's dad was staring at her as was his mom, Brittany and Santana had at some point sidled up to her and wrapped their arms around her, while her own mother stood sipping a Long Island iced tea. Sam's siblings were slack-jawed too, mainly at seeing Quinn's face on TV. She looked to her right where Sam had been standing, but he had disappeared.

_xxxxx_

"I need to find Sam," she whispered to her friends and slipped away from them. The TV had blessedly been muted and the channel changed. Quinn wandered to the kitchen, trying to find Sam. The news could not have been delivered in a worse possible way.

He was not in the kitchen or the back porch. She didn't see him in the hot tub or pool or backyard. Her heart was thumping. He wouldn't have left, would he? She went back inside where things seemed back to normal, though she noticed Sam's mother looking at her quizzically. He wasn't on the front porch, but his car was still in the drive. She ran down to her gate and finally saw his blonde hair blowing in the sea breeze. He sat on the sand close to the water and nearly out of sight from her house. She ran out of her yard to him.

Sam sat watching the tide move in and out, his knees drawn up to his chest. She stopped at him, her toes touching his hip, out of breath.

He looked up at her. "I suppose that's what you've been trying to talk to me about, right?"

She plopped down next to him, unsure of how to proceed. She wrapped her arms tightly around his arm and rested her head on his shoulder but could tell he stiffened at her touch, very much unlike how he usually reacted to her.

"Sam, I'm so, so sorry..."

"I'm just having a hard time-you lied to me. I-I don't know what to believe from you anymore," he said, his words cutting her. "Pregnancy?"

"Can I explain, please?"

He chuckled sarcastically. "I think I've heard enough for today. I'll hang around to set off the fireworks for the kids but then-then-I just don't know."

She let go of his arm, not knowing how to respond. They sat in silence for quite some time.

"Sam, I kept that from you to protect you, I guess. Some of the stuff I write about I'm not very proud of. I wanted my identity to be secret for my privacy and now not even that can be done," she said, referring to the picture taken of them on the street.

They sat there quietly again. Finally, Sam stood and brushed off his shorts. "I suppose someone ought to be the host." He walked off, leaving Quinn to sit there and face the ocean alone. It was only then that she let the tears fall.

_xxxxx_

After pulling herself together, she returned to her house. The party seemed to be in full swing, everyone in the pool now except for Sam who sat in the backyard watching the group from a distance. Quinn slipped into the pool and was immediately taken under the wings of her best friends.

"So, I take it Sam isn't too thrilled with your choice of career?" Santana whispered to her.

"I think it was just a shock to him," Quinn replied.

"What's shocking is it wasn't found out earlier," Santana said. "By the way, we turned the ringer off on your land line; it started ringing like cray-cray after you went to the beach."

"Thanks..."

"We can be your lobsters, Quinn," Brittany said, braiding Quinn's hair.

"I love you, Britt," Quinn said.

Sam's mom floated over to the girls. Santana and Brittany took that as their cue to float away.

She touched Quinn's arm lightly. "I know it seems he's sulking and maybe to a degree he is...but he'll come around...it was just a bit of a surprise to all of us, well, _us_." She meant Sam's family.

"I understand and I should apologize to you and Dwight also-"

"No apology needed. You're an adult and how you choose to earn your living is your business. I think you've done a fine job so far. I haven't read any of the books but I've overhead the kids at school talking about them and really I think they learn some good lessons, from what I've heard."

"I do need to apologize. I was trying to figure out a way to tell Sam and I didn't mean for it to come out here and oh my god..." The tears started up again.

His mom put her arm around Quinn's shoulders.

"Quinn, we think nothing less of you...he'll come around...he's sensitive, always has been...just give him time. And, whatever you do, keep writing!"

Stacy swam over to her then and clung to her. "Don't cry, Quinnie...you're too pretty to cry!"

Quinn was thankful that Sam's younger siblings really didn't have a grasp on what had happened, with the only exception being Quinn's picture on TV.

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing by the pool, in the pool, in front of the TV, eating some more until it was finally dark enough to set off the fireworks. They watched the ones over Charleston first, relaxing on the beach watching the bursts of gold, silver, red, blue, green, purple, even pink overhead. Quinn loved hearing Stevie and Stacy's ooh's and ahh's over each explosion. Sam still had not said much of anything to her with the exception of "please pass the mustard" or "you need more charcoal."

His dad helped him light the fireworks they bought for their own display. He walked over to her with a lit sparkler and handed it to her, though without a smile. Her heart ached.

Once those fireworks were done, there was a massive effort on everyone's part to clean up the remains of said fireworks and then to straighten up the backyard and back porch. Quinn busied herself with cleaning up toys from around the pool and glasses from around the hot tub.

Quinn's mother and father retired soon to their room, but Santana and Brittany helped her around the backyard. Sam's mom came out to thank her for the picnic and let her know the kitchen was straightened up.

"The kids have collapsed into slumber so we're going to get them home. Have faith in Sam, he'll come around," she told Quinn, squeezing her shoulders quickly and going to meet Dwight to load the kids up.

"Listen to his mom, Quinnie, she probably knows him best," Brittany said. "She's known him the longest by far."

Quinn smiled a tiny smile, though still worried by his distance that evening.

Once the backyard and deck were cleaned up, Santana and Brittany retired for the night and Quinn sought out Sam. He wasn't in the kitchen or dining room or living room or front porch. Quinn stood there, in disbelief, staring at the ocean, then her empty driveway. He had left without saying a word to her.


	14. First

_**Chapter 14~First**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay...you might need to read ch 13 to refresh your memory...Quinn's secret was unleashed, Sam found out and left her house.**

She called him. She texted him. She looked for him at Pritchett's. She even stalked his house a few times. He refused to talk to her. She was not aware of it, but he was keeping an eye on her, as well. Finally, in frustration, she put her grocery delivery service on hold.

There was nothing else for her to do besides write. And write she did. She began writing the tale of her senior year, beginning with her downfall into hell with a group called the Skanks. The woman who had adopted her daughter was back on the scene at that time...it was as if she was trying to make Quinn's life miserable by allowing Noah Puckerman to visit their daughter but not her. She had worked out a lot of her anger in therapy but still some bubbled below the surface every once in awhile and it helped to write it out.

Her name and picture were in the news for the week after the Fourth. All that was known about her whereabouts, though, was that she was in Charleston, South Carolina. The tabloids were having a heyday digging up what they could about her; a lot of times, she ignored what was being said on the internet and news channels. She knew Sam had to be seeing this stuff and that bothered her. Signa wanted her to go on a short book tour soon to promote the series revolving around the pregnancy and drum up interest in the new series. She still was undecided about that and had to give it more thought.

As July drew to a close, she decided to change her entry code at the gate to Sully's Paradise. She had seen him the night before, parked a couple blocks away, sitting on her beach, staring out at the ocean. She sat in darkness on her front porch, waiting to see if he'd come talk to her. The night grew chilly, though he still sat there. She finally went inside and locked up, turning off all the inside lights. Upstairs, from her bedroom, she looked out at the beach once more, but he was gone.

Two days later, he sent her a text message. _Can we talk please?_

She sighed but ignored it. She had been ready to talk to him, to air all this out, but now she was being stubborn. She'd make him wait.

Another two days slid by quietly. She was in the kitchen preparing her supper meal when she heard Selena Gomez start singing from her office...Sam's ringtone. She was dumbfounded for a couple minutes, then ran upstairs to find she missed his call. Then, her phone buzzed on her desk. _Quinn, talk to me_ and then another message _please_. She sat there staring at her phone, her finger poised over the reply button. Another message came in: _I can't believe you locked me out_.

She did hit reply then and said: _YOU locked ME out, Sam Evans!_

Her phone was quiet for a few minutes.

_Let me apologize to you in person, Quinn._

She looked at the message, not knowing how to respond.

_I miss you so bad. _Her eyes teared up. She missed him too but had her work to occupy her time. She didn't know what he had been doing except for creeping down to her beach to watch the ocean until she changed her code on the gate.

She listened to the voicemail he left while she was in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," was what he had said, his voice tired, full of sorrow in just those three words.

She texted him back. _Not tonight._

He was silent in his reply.

_xxxxx_

"Talk to the boy, Q," Santana said from New York City.

Quinn had finally called her to fill her in on the latest developments.

"Let him apologize so you two can get back to doing whatever it is you do," she said.

"I _tried _to talk to him...the day this all went public...he left here without ever saying a word to me. I get that he was upset but he acted like a big baby!" Quinn protested.

Santana paused. "So, he was acting his age then?"

Quinn sighed. "Yep. You're right. And I suppose I need to act _my _age, right?"

"Well..."

"Maybe I want to be immature and ignore him now?" Quinn was on the brink of tears yet again. "Maybe I just want to be alone in my house for awhile. I gotta go..." She hung up before any more advice came from the Latina. She just wasn't feeling it.

She decided to draw a bubble bath and relax the night away there. She double-checked her doors downstairs, grabbed an ice-cold wine cooler, and headed upstairs, plucking a smutty novel from her office to read while she soaked plus her cell phone.

In her spa-like bathroom, she lit some candles, set her book, wine cooler, and phone on the floor, and turned on some light music in her bedroom, then slipped out of her shorts and t-shirt and into the bubbles.

The room was steamy, the water warm. The stress and worry she had been dealing with lately seemed to literally melt away into the bubbles. She cracked open the wine cooler and read from her book a bit, then propped up her bath pillow on the ledge and rested her head on it, closing her eyes.

She let her mind wander to her and Sam, how they met, their first date, first kiss, the night in his boss' office...she missed him...a lot and couldn't deny it.

She heard a floorboard creak in her bedroom. Her eyes flew open and focused on the bathroom door as she pushed herself up from the bubbles. She first saw scuffed sneakers, baggy faded jeans, a Hulk t-shirt, then Sam's blue eyes and his messy blonde hair, complete with a couple twigs poking out here and there.

"Sam?!" Her voice was a bit screechy, but, in all fairness, he had scared her by just suddenly appearing there.

"I-I had to see you, Quinn," he said quietly. "I let myself in. Please don't be mad. I just-just wanted to talk..."

She sat in her tub, her arms covering her front, speechless. He reached for the towel she had set out and unfolded it.

"Please...Quinn..." He stepped forward. "Please talk to me..."

She nodded ever so slightly, and he held out his hand to her. She stood up and let him fold her into the fluffy towel.

Once out of the tub, he held her tightly in the towel on the bath mat.

"I'm...so sorry, Quinn," he mumbled, his voice breaking.

"No...I'm sorry, Sam...I shouldn't've kept all that stuff from you and then you found out the worst way possible..."

"I should've talked to you...I should've realized you had a life before me...I just...I just was freaking out, I guess...I guess I thought you had no life before me," Sam said to her.

She chuckled. "I get it...I understand, Samuel."

She looked up at him; his lips quivered. Then, he leaned in and kissed her passionately. The towel was trapped between them when she wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him back. She felt something in the back of his hair...a twig.

"Sam? You have...sticks...in your hair..." She then realized his face was smudged with dirt.

"Um..." Sam started. "It's how I got here...through the nature preserve to your backyard...I needed to find a way to get to you..."

She pressed her body against his, his hands caressing her back, down to her ass.

"You scared the shit out of me, Sam Evans," she mumbled to him, kissing him again. She tugged at the Hulk shirt, pulling it off him and letting it drop to the floor.

"I'm really sorry...you locked me out and I couldn't even sit on your beach...I know you saw me," he said to her, his hands now cupping her face.

"Only once..."

"I was out there a lot, until you changed your code. I didn't know how...how to come up to you..."

Her hands coursed over his body, familiar territory to her. She placed her hands on his pecs again.

"You have hair on your chest now..." she said. He smirked a bit. She traced the few brownish-gold hairs there. They matched the ones at his bellybutton, disappearing into his jeans. Her fingers unbuttoned his pants. She glanced up at him and her tongue slipped over her lips just barely.

"Is this okay?" she asked. In the back of her mind, she found it comical that she asked his permission when he had broken into her home.

He nodded.

She was now dry and wasn't planning on making out in her bathroom. Gently, she walked him backward into her bedroom until the back of his knees touched her mattress. She then unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his legs. She glanced down at his boxers, her eye stopping on his wonderful...turtle?

She squatted down to get eye level with his man bits, then stood back up.

"Really, Sam? Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?" she asked him.

"Mhmm...Raphael is my fave..." he mumbled to her, his hands now on her breasts.

Kissing him, she said against his lips, "I want you to take me, Sam..."

He paused in his kissing. "Take you where?"

Close enough that their noses were touching, she looked him in the eye. "You're kidding, right?"

He was totally clueless. She took his hands and turned him around so that her bed was behind her now.

"I want you...to take me to bed, Samuel," she purred. "We need to make up for lots of lost time..."

He looked a bit uncertain but allowed her to push the Ninja Turtles briefs down his legs. She sat on the bed and scooted up to the pillows, beckoning him with her forefinger. Nervously, he climbed onto her bed, between her legs, lying above her, kissing her softly.

She loved how he felt over her; his weight was perfect. Their skin together was something she had been longing for. One of his legs was between her legs, as if he was afraid to lay directly over her.

He suddenly stopped his kissing and looked down at her.

"I just want you to know that this is _not _why I came here tonight. I've wanted this to happen for some time but I came here to apologize and talk to you and just...just see you, Quinn..." His words spilled out on top of one another. She was all too aware of his erection between them, poking her stomach.

She cupped his face in her hands, then moved her hands to his shoulders. "I understand, Sam...I'm so glad you're here..."

He backed off her to retrieve his jeans from the floor and pulled out his wallet. She saw a flash of yellow in his hand. He sat on the end of the bed, his back to her, and she heard the condom wrapper rip open.

"God, I hope I'm doing this right," he mumbled. She watched his arms working at his middle, him slumped over watching himself. She could hear a bit of the rubber as he rolled it down onto himself.

He finally turned around and moved back over her. "Sorry it took me so long...kinda new to this..."

She had to giggle at that and also because he was nibbling her neck. He moved between her legs, fully laying over her now. She reached between them and stroked his cock a bit.

"You did a fine job..." she whispered.

She brought her knees up around him, anxious to get started.

He bent down to her, kissing her full on the mouth, passionately, dropping his hips to hers. She could feel him, hard, pressing against her vagina, trying to find entrance. He was close but not close enough. She lifted her hips to help him and he moaned, his forehead against hers.

"No, no, no, no..." he mumbled to himself. "Oh god, the Falcons were about to win the game, only needed a touchdown, threw a Hail Mary pass down the field, intercepted, time ran out, and - ohhhh dammit..."

His hips rocked against her, making contact but only enough to send him over the edge...way too soon.

Quinn didn't need to ask him what had happened; she felt the hot fluid on her belly, trapped in the condom. He looked at her finally, eyes wide with disbelief.

"God, I'm so-"

"It's okay, Sam...it happens...we'll take a breather and try again..."

She could feel the heat burning in his cheeks even in the semi-darkness of her room.

He rolled over next to her, his arm covering his face.

"I just keep letting you down..." he said to her. She lay on her side, tracing shapes on his bare chest. "All this time, while you've been dealing with the press and fallout from your identity being uncovered...I've just let you down. I should've listened to you on the Fourth, heard you out, but I ran...like a baby. I've had a month to think about that, letting you down."

He rolled to face her now. "I love you, Quinn. I've loved you since our first kiss. I love everything about you and I know there are parts of you I've yet to learn but I want to love those parts too..."

His hand followed the curve of her waist to her hip to her thigh, pulling her against him.

"Sam..." She paused. The heat from their bodies pressed together, his naked skin against hers, took her breath away. "I love you, too."

She felt him reaching between his legs to pull the used condom off. While he tied that one off and tossed it aside, she pulled another from her nightstand.

This time, she stroked his erection back to life, letting him watch her, then she put the condom on him.

She lay back and let him take his place again between her legs. Her hand found his cock, and she continued stroking him while he kissed her about the face and neck and breasts. Slowly, she rubbed his cock in her folds, feeling him gasp and tremble, then she positioned him at her opening and moved her hand away.

"Now, Sam..." she whispered.

Instinctively, he pressed his hips to hers, his lips momentarily paused as he took in the sensation of entering her for the first time. He moved into her slowly, trying to get accustomed to what he was feeling. Quinn was ready for the friction. His breath was hot on her skin, intermixed with tiny grunts and moans. She looked at his face; his eyes were closed and his long eyelashes lay on his reddened cheeks while he bit down on his lip. There was no sound but their breathing and the rustle of the sheets beneath them.

"Am I...doing okay?" he grunted out. He had begun to move back and forth, slowly but rhythmically. Her eyes were closed now, soaking in the essence of their moment together. Her knees were dropped to the bed while his thrusting started to pick up momentum. He pushed up over her, gazing down at her. She ran her hands down his flushed chest to the muscles working in his abdomen to his slender hips.

"Perfect..." she managed to reply.

Her hands went back up his belly to his chest where she played with his nipples a little, then to his shoulders while he pressed into her hard and close. She gripped his back, feeling those muscles contract, then her hands made their way to his ass, using her fingernails down his back lightly.

He emitted a sound that was a broken _ohhhhh _while moving in and out of her. She could feel his balls slapping her with each of his thrusts and that in itself was erotic to her. She moved her hips up to his, matching his thrusts, until he buried his face into the side of her neck, sucking her there while his body quaked with the onset of his orgasm.

"I'm gonna lose it..." he mumbled.

The sounds he made as he came into her sent tingles down her spine, straight to that little nub of nerve endings that he was presently still banging against. She arched her back and let herself go. The pleasure she felt was intense, so much better than using her fingers and thoughts. She hadn't been lying when she told him he was perfect. He stayed over her, inside her, as long as he could; she felt all of him when he pulled out of her. He lay down next to her and both were quiet for some time. Quinn rested her hands on her flat belly, drawing her knees up. Eventually, Sam removed the second used condom, tied it, and threw it aside with the first.

"I did okay?" he asked finally.

"No. I never want to see your wiener again," she responded. Then giggled. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm already thinking about our next time, okay?"

He rolled toward her. "Really? There's gonna be a next time?"

"I'd say _lots_ more times..."

She rolled on her side so her back was against his front. He draped his arm over her waist, his fingers playing with her boob, until she realized he was softly snoring. She let herself slide into sleep then, too.

_xxxxx_

She woke up to an erection pressing into her back. With no words spoken between them, except for when Quinn told him he was good to go after rolling the condom on, they made love again in the middle of the night. This time, Sam held out a little longer and was a little more sure of what to do, at least on top. She loved it when he'd push up over her, staring down at her, and she could see both their bodies connected at that one place. She could see all his muscles working with his breathing and thrusting, the flush over his face and chest, his hair a mess, pupils dilated, lips sometimes clamped together and sometimes falling open.

They were moving together in a passionate rhythm...Quinn was closing in on her orgasm...when he slipped out of her. She groaned at the loss of contact; he stared down at himself in disbelief. His penis was suspended between them both, twitching a little, shiny with sex.

"Back in..." Quinn barked out. He turned his attention to her and kissed her. Her tongue flicked out to touch his, bringing him back to the present moment.

He pushed back into her, slowly, relishing the feeling of entering her, feeling her all around him. He picked up his pace and felt the rush...it was taking no time at all.

With a strong thrust, he grunted into her mouth, pushing himself as far into her as he could.

"Uhhhh..." Another thrust..."uhhhh..." His body shuddered, then tensed up, then relaxed. A final thrust and a final groan and he was spent.

Ripples of pleasure surged through her. At one point, she was pretty sure her legs had gone numb. Everything good radiated from her center and spread through her body. Finally, breathing through it, she came back down to earth, still attached to Sam. She held his face in her hands.

"God, Sam, I don't think it can get better than that..." she whispered.

"Then I need to keep trying..." he replied. "I love you, Quinn, god how I love you."

They finally separated, but he still held onto her.

Just as she began to doze off, a thought struck her.

"Do you need to go home?" she asked him.

He kissed the nape of her neck. "No...I'm spending the night at Mike's." Meaning he was spending the night with her.

A smile played across her lips and she slept deeply, waking to find herself spraddled across his nakedness, the morning light spilling in on them. He awoke also and made love to her once more.


	15. No Hands

_**Chapter 15~No Hands**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

She felt alive that morning, waking up in his arms, feeling his body rock against hers. The past few weeks had been drab and gray without him; now, suddenly, everything was vivid once more. They stumbled into her shower together, cleansing one another of the sweat and sex from the night and that morning, then made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. They were starving.

Sitting across from each other at the kitchen island, sipping orange juice and nibbling on bagels, Sam began the conversation.

"So, um, last night was...well, amazing, Quinn. I never dreamed it could be like that..." He smiled shyly and paused. "Does this mean we're back on?"

She nodded and smiled just as shyly as he did. "I hope that's what it means..."

He reached for her hand. "Like I said last night, I want to know all parts of you and learn to love them...as much as I love what I know now."

She slipped over to him and planted herself on his lap. "I loved waking up with you, sleeping next to you..."

He kissed her temple as she snuggled against him. "So did I...something that crossed my mind though, last night..."

"I'm sore..." She giggled a little, a blush on her cheeks.

He smiled. "Me too..."

He held her tightly, forgetting breakfast for a moment.

"Last night, I was able to get here on your property so easily...Quinn, I'm afraid _anyone _could if they wanted to badly enough," he said quietly. "And last night, I wanted to see you badly enough...enough to break into your house."

She clung to him. "What're you saying then?"

"I worry about you here alone..."

"You know I always lock up, Sam...and only you knew the way through the nature preserve..."

"Any lunatic could Google that, Quinn. I want you to be safe. Have you not seen the stuff on the internet? About your books?" he asked her, staring her down.

She shrugged. "I try to avoid the criticism."

"I'm being serious, Quinn. There are guys out there who publicly say how bad they want to fuck you, other guys literally want to wipe you off the face of the earth...I just want you to be safe..."

"Do I need a bodyguard?" she asked him. She had no idea what people were saying about her, other than what she heard from her family, Santana and Brittany, and Marcy.

"If I could be here 24/7, you know I would be...maybe you need to have an alarm installed...or take in a big dog," he said.

"I chose this place for the privacy. No one will ever find me," she said glibly, pecked him on his scruffy cheek, and went back to her side of the island to finish her breakfast. "I need to build up my energy!"

"Quinn..."

She sighed. "I'll look into it, okay? Seriously, all is fine here...especially after last night." She winked at him.

Later that morning, she drove him to his car. She had not yet been to the nature preserve but now could see how easy it had been for him to get to her property. She thought it was fenced in, but he said there was a rotted out area of the fence not visible when on her property. They made plans for later that evening when he got off work, and she returned home, looking up security companies and contractors.

She priced some security systems online, then called a local business to come evaluate her home. She didn't want to deal with her ex-boyfriend and still married Jim to fix her fence, so she contacted a popular business in Charleston and set up an appointment for them to come check her fence. She then started writing, getting lost in her senior year story for a few hours. She received texts through the day from Sam while he worked at Pritchett's, just fun, light stuff like _Hey hot stuff...just thinkin bout u_ and _i will never forget last night_. She told him about the security company coming out in a few days and the fence being fixed, both things he was happy to hear about. He told her he'd bring supper when he came over later and maybe she could wear a dress?

She chose to wear a new summer dress she had found on clearance...sand colored with tiny white polka dots, a few at the top and getting more dense toward the hem...to show off her tan. Underneath, she wore lacy white underthings. She pulled up the sides of her hair, twisting it into a small messy knot. She put on a bit of eye makeup and lip gloss; in the mirror, she was glowing.

Sam showed up after work, and they prepared a quick dinner and ate by candlelight at the dining room table. Quinn sipped on chardonnay, while Sam sipped on sparkling water.

"So...how do you feel today?" she asked him after talking about his work and the places she had called.

"You mean, because I-we-I'm not a..." he stumbled.

She nodded.

"Well, I kinda feel like I'm a part of a club now...a very special club. I understand what some of the guys talk about at work and, well at school, about thinking about it all the time...I know I had at least two semi's today just thinking about last night."

She laughed.

"I know I'm glad it happened with you, the first time," he continued. "I just hope I get better at it."

She reached over to him and squeezed his hand. "Like I said, you were perfect."

"How about you? How do _you _feel today?"

"Very relaxed, like things are right again...and a little sore," she answered.

He cleared his throat. "I meant what I said last night...tell me about yourself."

"A little at a time; it's easier to take in small doses, I think," she said. "I used to be a chubby kid with glasses and brown hair."

"No you didn't..."

"Oh yes I did, Samuel Arthur Evans! I went by Lucy then. It was not any fun at school; I was made fun of a lot. When I was 12, my dad got me a nose job and laser eye surgery for my birthday. Some gymnastics and cheer classes later and I became Quinn," she told him. She got up and pulled an old framed picture from the hutch cupboard and handed it to Sam. It was a chubby brown-haired girl with glasses, smiling into the camera.

He looked at it for a few moments, then to her, then back to the picture. He stood up next to her.

"I see no difference in that girl and the woman standing here," he said finally. "Both beautiful creatures who I am honored to know."

She took her picture back and held it to her chest, sighing deeply. "Thank you, Sam."

He kissed her on the forehead and took his seat while she returned to hers.

"Enough about the past for now. I have a surprise for you in the living room," she said brightly.

He raised his eyebrows. "A surprise?"

Her surprise was _The Dark Knight Rises_, downloaded to her TV.

They settled in to watch the flick, the lights down low. Quinn curled into his side, watching the movie but getting sidetracked with him whispering little facts about the movie into her ear. Every time he did that, goosebumps popped up on her neck. Finally, she just planted her hand on his crotch, causing a bit of a moan to escape his lips. She thought to herself, what could make this movie better for him?

She felt him growing, swelling, beneath her fingertips as she rubbed his cock over his jeans. She crawled down to the floor, between his knees, and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He watched her intently, movie forgotten, knowing what was about to happen.

With his pants undone, Quinn palmed his cock over his briefs, then leaned forward and licked him there. She slid up his body, kissing his open mouth.

"Put your hands behind your head...no touching..." she whispered, then slid back down his body.

She watched him smirk a bit, then lace his hands together behind his neck like she had asked him to do. She pushed his jeans down and off, leaving him in his black boxers with a tool box emblazoned across the front. She licked him again over his boxers, looking up to him. He was watching her now, not the movie. His abdomen rose and fell with his breathing, the muscles tensing and relaxing.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down slowly, letting her fingernails scratch him lightly. They got hung up on his erection, then it popped out as she pulled them down. He lifted his hips to allow her to pull them completely off, and she tossed them over her shoulder. He now sat before her, leaned back on the couch, completely naked. It was a beautiful sight, her sitting between his knees looking up to him. She could see the fine golden hairs shining on his body, the shadows created by his muscles, the bulge in front of her.

She began by kissing his inner thighs lightly, then nipping at him, finally sucking a hickey so close to his balls he could feel her hair brushing against them. She blew against the red mark on his inner thigh, then put her lips on his balls, sucking him there.

He whimpered above her. She glanced up while blowing lightly on his scrotum; his hands were still in place. His pink scrotal skin was puckered up from her lips touching it. He had let his knees drop open; his penis was fully hard, lying against his groin toward his left side. She gripped his thighs, then his hips.

She took him in her mouth without using her hands. She felt him sit up a bit when her mouth connected with him. She sucked him into her mouth, onto her tongue, then eased up, then sucked again...never using her hands. With every pull on his dick, he groaned more loudly. She glanced up at one point and saw his arms extended along the back of the couch, his hands gripping the fabric. She sucked on him hard.

"Oh...god...Quinn..." he mumbled finally. She took her mouth away, and he whined. She stood up and slipped out of her white panties.

She straddled him, pressing down on his hardness. He reached for her hips, looking up at her.

She shook her head as if she was admonishing a child. She took his wrists and brought his arms to the back of the couch.

"Use something else to find your way in," she mumbled against his cheek. She wanted him inside her badly but waited for him to make the move.

She lowered herself to his cock, feeling his heat in her folds. She moved up and down him, her wetness covering him. He used his groin muscles to lift his cock to her entrance and slid into her with ease, letting out a sigh of content and relief as he did. She lit him sink into her slowly. Once he was all the way in, she didn't move but kissed him, running her fingers through his hair. He finally put his hands on her hips and began moving her up and down on top of him slowly. She arched her back, pressing her chest against his. He bunched her skirt in his fists, trying to remember to close his mouth but not succeeding, breathing hot and heavy against her.

"You feel wonderful," he choked out. "_Perfect..._"

She smiled a little, made some little noise in her throat, and kept circling her hips against him. It was creating a warmth between her legs, wet heat, and she could hear the sounds of them together...the muffled breathing, the skin coming together, the wetness. This was even better than she had imagined it would be. He began jutting his hips up to her, slowly but then quickly. He was moaning with how it felt, a sound from deep within him, primitive, guttural.

She rested her forehead against his, trying to kiss him, her tongue flicking out at his lips, his tongue responding to her. She was close to her orgasm; she needed friction.

"Faster Sam...fuck me harder..." she mumbled finally. She whined at the end of her statement.

His eyes reflected shock at her words, but he did as he was instructed. It didn't take long to get her there...a few more thrusts, and she was coming, lost in her climax. He bit down on his lip, grunting with each hard thrust, her orgasm turning him on even more than he thought possible. It finally poured out of him, shooting hard into her, until his fluids were coating his cock and groin, soaking her inner thighs.

Both of them were panting as their climaxes wound down, the sensitive parts of their bodies trying to return to normal but still rubbing together softly.

He was nuzzling her neck when the realization struck him. Without moving from her neck, he opened his eyes. She could feel his eyelashes brush her cheek. She was presently sucking his earlobe.

"Quinn..." he whispered.

"Mmm?"

"We didn't...um, I didn't use a-a rubber..."

"I know..." She moved from his ear to kissing his cheek until she reached his lips. "I know."

He was losing his erection, slipping out of her. "Is that...okay?"

"I'm on the pill, Sam. I didn't want anything between us tonight. How'd it feel for you?"

He thought about it and realized the feeling had been more intense, not sheathed.

"Out of this fucking world," he mumbled, kissing her back.

_xxxxx_

A few hours later, he woke up to his cell phone ringing..._Somewhere Over the Rainbow_. He scrambled out of Quinn's bed to pull it out of his pants pocket. It was his dad, not his mom, and his dad was pissed. Quinn stirred in the bed, overhearing Sam trying to speak in a hushed whisper. She rolled over to face where he sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees. He sighed and turned toward her.

"I've got to get home. They're mad because I didn't make curfew...fuck. This is not going to be good," he told her, pulling his clothes up from the floor, beginning to get dressed. She scooted in behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad back, now slumped over.

She kissed his shoulder. "I'm sorry...I should've not let us fall asleep..." Even as she spoke the words, she didn't agree with them; she loved sleeping next to him.

He pulled on his briefs, then his pants. "I'll let you know when I can what happens...I'll probably be grounded for fucking ever."

He pulled his shirt on over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I had a great night tonight...the movie was awesome."

He smiled at her in the dark and pulled her into a tight embrace. "God, Quinn...I love you."

He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. Then he was gone.


	16. The Broken Nose

_**Chapter 16~The Broken Nose**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Quinn waited anxiously to hear from Sam...whether or not he was grounded or what his punishment was for not going home and spending the night with her. There were no calls or texts on her phone and nothing on her computer in the morning, so she had just a light breakfast since her stomach was in knots, showered, and sat down to do some writing. Signa had sent her an itinerary for her first-ever book tour, so she went over that. She'd be leaving in a week, meeting Marcy, then hitting some bookstores for signings and ending at Signa's New York City offices. While in New York City, she planned on visiting Santana and Brittany too. She sent them an email to make arrangements for her visit, then checked her phone again. Nothing from Sam. It was a school day for him so she assumed he was at school and would contact her afterward, hopefully.

The day passed uneventfully but still no word from Sam after he would've left school and went to work or went home. She was too nervous to send him a message, afraid that his parents had confiscated his phone. Finally, night set in so she went to her front porch to watch the waves crash in and out. The ocean seemed angry that evening, violent almost. The tide was coming up farther than she had ever noticed before.

Her phone sang Selena Gomez next to her. She grabbed it but the text message from Sam was blank.

_Very odd_, she thought. And less than five minutes later she found out why.

She heard the screech of the tires before she heard the engine...then she heard his car, then saw it, tearing down her street, barely slowing to slam to a stop in her driveway. He immediately shut the engine off but just sat in his car. She watched him for a moment, then walked to his car slowly.

At his open window, she braced herself on the edge of the car and quietly said, "Sam?"

He was fiddling with his key ring still dangling from the ignition.

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" she asked him.

He looked up at her through the window, his face red and his hair windblown. "You think I can stay here for awhile?"

_xxxxx_

His question stunned her into being speechless for a few moments.

"Uh, yeah, sure, sure..." she finally mumbled out.

He climbed out of the car and pulled a duffel bag and his backpack from the backseat. He followed her up to the front door and stopped her.

"If this isn't cool, I can call up Mike or Artie...I could probably stay with them...I just...can't go back home right now," he said quietly.

"Just come in and tell me what happened..."

Inside, he set down his duffel bag and backpack and followed her into the kitchen. She poured them both a lemonade, tucked a package of Soft Batch cookies in her arm, took his hand, and led him to the living room, sitting him on the couch. She sat down with him and opened the cookies, handing him one.

"Okay, spill..." she said once they were comfortable.

He sipped on his lemonade and nibbled on a cookie. Finally..."I got grounded."

She didn't say anything and let him tell the story.

"I got mad...they're being unfair...I'm 18 now...do I really need a fuck- a curfew?" he continued. "So...I packed up and left."

She still didn't say anything.

"Have they called here?" he asked her.

"No...I don't think so..."

"If you don't want me here, I have the money I've saved...I'll find a place..." he said to her. He gave her his best puppy dog look.

"How bad was the argument?"

He rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. "The worst one by far...I've never fought with my parents like that. They didn't say anything last night; it happened after school today since I didn't have to work...it's not about you and being older so much, it's about me and _me _getting older. God, Stinky was crying..."

"Oh no..." Quinn reached over for his hand. "How about Stevie?"

"He ran to our room and was kinda mad at me when I came up to pack my stuff..."

Quinn was torn. Sitting facing her, Sam looked like a pouty little boy but then would speak like a man. She wanted him to stay with her more than anything; on the other hand, he still lived with his parents. But, he had just turned 18...he was just barely 18.

"Here's a plan..." she said. "I think you probably need some time to cool down so you can stay here. I have plenty of guestrooms."

He pursed his lips, staring at her. "Guestrooms?"

"Yeah. We can be like roommates."

"Oh...okay..."

"Sam, I want you here, I do very much...but, you know, you're still in school, your parents-"

"My parents are trying to run my life! I'm 18 now...I have a job, I'll be out of school soon, I have you...they need to let me...just...do what I want to do!"

"I get that, I do...I'm glad you came here, Sam, and not somewhere else...we'll just take it day by day, alright?" she said, handing him another cookie. He nodded.

"I'll be leaving on my book tour next week so, in a way, it'll be good to have someone in the house, keeping an eye on things," she told him. "If you don't mind staying here alone."

"How long will you be gone?"

"About three weeks."

He nodded again and looked down at the cookie in his hands. "Thanks, Quinn...I've never fought like that with my parents...I've never walked out..."

"Maybe you should call them to let them know where you are, so they don't worry..."

He sighed. "I will tomorrow. I've got to do some homework."

"Okay...why don't you take the green room upstairs? Have you had supper tonight?"

"No...it was just a huge mess at my house with the fighting...I just left..." he mumbled.

"Then have supper here and study...I have some work to do tonight anyway," she said. "It'll work out with your parents, Sam."

"What if it works out between us?" he asked her, following her to the kitchen.

"What do you mean?"

"What if we, uh, get along, you know, living together and, uh, we make it kinda permanent?"

She smiled. "Day by day, Samuel...we'll see how it goes."

He chuckled a bit. "Sorry...I was getting ahead of myself..." He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her cheek. "You're one helluva girlfriend, Quinn Fabray."

_xxxxx_

Sam got settled into the green room upstairs (in his mind, it was The Hulk room) and pulled out the novel he was reading for his English Lit class. His phone rang next to him; it was his mom's ringtone. He sighed and answered it.

"Don't start arguing with me," he said to begin with. He knew he was being defensive but didn't care.

Quinn heard him from her office. She could tell it was probably one of his parents. She got the one-sided Sam version of the conversation. He kept his voice calm to begin with.

"I'm at Quinn's, in a _guestroom_..."

"Yeah, I know...I didn't mean to upset her..."

"I'm 18 now...you need to give me some space..."

"It was just the one night..."

Then, it began to escalate.

"Which is exactly why I don't want to live under your roof!"

"I have a job, I'm almost done with school...you need to let me make some decisions on my own..."

He sighed and his room remained quiet. Quinn stayed in her office and didn't bother him.

_xxxxx_

"What're you reading?" she asked from the doorway to his room. He was sprawled out on the bed, holding the book on his chest. He put it down on his chest and smiled at her.

"_Gone With The Wind_...good stuff..." he replied, then pushed up from the pillows. "I've missed you."

She came over and sat on the bed. "It's only been an hour!"

"Still...an hour seems like forever sometimes..."

She scooted down next to him curled up against him. "So...did ya talk to your mom?"

"Mhmm...she's still pissed that I left but what're they gonna do? I'm not blowing off school or work...I'm just taking a break from them..."

"Is she mad at me?"

He chuckled. "No...remember, they've been there...her being older than my dad...she's just glad I'm not sleeping in my car somewhere."

He scooted down next to her so that they were lying side by side.

"It's cozy in here..." he said quietly.

"Mhmm..." Her eyelids were already getting heavy.

He murmured something next to her and reached behind him and clicked off the lamp.

_xxxxx_

Quinn stirred in the middle of the night, realizing she was still in her clothes, as was Sam, snoring quietly next to her. She got up and went to her room and changed into her pajamas, then went back to rouse Sam.

She whispered to him and kissed his cheek.

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"You're in your clothes…get up and come to my bed," she whispered.

He rolled over and focused on her, then pulled himself out of the bed and followed her to her bedroom. He stepped out of his clothes, sleepily, standing next to her bed. She was already under the comforter when Sam climbed in next to her.

He kissed her. "I love you…" he said and drifted back to sleep.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, watching his breathing even to slow inhalations, his eyes twitching a bit behind his lids, until she was dreaming again.

_xxxxx_

The next morning, Quinn woke up alone in her bed at 9 o'clock. She wandered into the green bedroom, and Sam's backpack was gone. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled. He had picked up his dirty clothes from her bedroom floor, and she found those in the hamper in her bathroom. He had even straightened up the bathroom after showering. His electric razor sat on her counter plus his cologne and deodorant and a comb.

She dressed and went to Pritchett's to pick up food for supper that evening. Back at home, she did some writing, talked with Signa and Santana, then began preparing supper. Sam had texted her around lunch that he'd be at the grocery store until 7-ish.

When Sam got to Quinn's that evening, she had supper on the table, ready for him.

"I could get used to this," he said, smiling at her.

"Me too…" she replied, lighting a tall purple taper candle.

They told one another about their day, then Sam asked Quinn about her schedule for her tour.

"I have stops in Charlotte and Raleigh in North Carolina, Norfolk and Richmond in Virginia, Washington DC, Baltimore in Maryland, Philadelphia, New Haven, and finally New York City. Marcy assures me that this is just a small tour. Later, I'll be going out west, I guess."

"I'll miss you while you're gone, ya know," he said.

"I'll miss you, too, Sam..."

They ate in silence for a bit.

"What do you think of _Gone With the Wind_ so far?" she asked him.

"Uh...it's a lot different than the movie..." he chuckled. "A lot more detail."

"I liked it; I had to read it in high school too."

"So...what were you like in high school?"

She laughed slightly and cleared her throat. "Well, kind of a bitch at first, then things turned around for me."

He looked confused. "What do you mean, things turned around for you?"

She sipped her wine. "You know I gave up my daughter for adoption?"

He nodded. She sighed.

"I went through a bad time after that, kinda pushed people away, then I was in a really nasty car accident and was temporarily paralyzed for a couple months," she told him.

"Wow...Quinn...I had no idea..." he said quietly, setting his fork down.

Recalling those memories caused her to get emotional, more emotional than she had expected. Tears streaked down her face. He pushed his chair out and motioned for her to come to him. She moved over into his lap and let him wrap his arms around her. It felt very nice to be held by him.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I don't know why that got to me like it did," she said, sniffing, after a few moments.

He shushed her and kept stroking her hair. Finally, she looked at him.

"I had no idea you were so...so..._deep_..." he said, kissing her tear-stained cheeks.

"It's just my life..."

He wound up cuddling with her that night until she fell asleep.

_xxxxx_

The next morning, Quinn woke up alone again, Sam having got himself up and to school. Again, she found his shucked off clothes in the hamper, the bathroom neat, no mess in the kitchen. She found it was nice to have someone there at night, just to talk to. She also was quite enjoying his warm body next to her in her bed at night, even though she kept reminding herself that they were to be living like roommates, not lovers.

The morning and afternoon slipped by quietly. She went to the security company office to set up installation, ran a few errands, then returned home.

She had a voicemail from Mrs. Evans, Sam's mom.

_Quinn…hi…this is…this is, uh, Mrs. Evans, uh, Mary…Sam's mom…I was hoping we could talk…please call when you have a moment…_

Quinn sat at the island in the kitchen and listened to the message again. His mom didn't sound angry…more sad, Quinn thought. Nervously, she dialed Sam's home number and listened to it ring.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Evans? Mary? This is Quinn," Quinn blurted out.

"Quinn...hello..." Sam's mom said quietly.

There was a brief pause; Quinn wasn't sure what to say.

"I got your message..."

"Yes...Quinn, is there any way we could meet for coffee to...talk?" his mom asked her. She sounded as unsure as Quinn felt.

"Um, sure...when is good for you?"

"Tomorrow maybe? While Sam is in school..."

Quinn cleared her throat. "That'd be fine."

They made arrangements on where and when to meet, and Quinn hung up the phone. Her hands were shaking.

_xxxxx_

The next day at noon, Quinn arrived at her favorite coffee shop in her old neighborhood in Charleston. The last time she had been there was when she met with her realtor to discuss buying her home. It seemed like ages ago to her.

She ordered a caffe misto and a turkey and Swiss sandwich and sat down to wait for Mrs. Evans. She had no idea what she was going to say to the woman who probably wanted Sam to come home.

She saw Mary walking up to the store, a shorter female version of Sam. Quinn waved to her, and Mary came to the table.

"Hello Quinn...good to see you again," Mary said. "Thanks for meeting with me today."

"Of course, Mary," Quinn said, standing up and hugging Mary quickly. "What would you like? Lunch is on me."

"Oh, no thank you, Quinn, I'm fine..."

"Mary, please...what do you want for lunch?"

Sam's mom finally acquiesced and ordered a plain bagel with cream cheese and a caffe misto like Quinn's. Once Mary had her coffee and bagel, they sat down at a table in the coffeehouse, next to the windows on the street. The place was filling up with lunchtime traffic. Quinn sipped on her coffee and nibbled at her sandwich until Mary finally spoke.

"How's Sam?"

"He's fine, Mrs. Evans. He came to me...I had no idea what was going on," Quinn told her.

Mary toyed with the corner of her napkin. "I never thought we were being so...so...stifling...with him. He's just, well, innocent. I'm his mother...to me, he'll always be innocent."

_Not anymore_, Quinn thought. She pushed aside her inner bitch and leaned into the table a bit, preparing to tell a little white lie.

"Mrs. Evans, I have him sleep in a separate room from mine, if that's what you're worried about. Really, I just think he needs time to cool off. Maybe the novelty of living away from home will wear off...or maybe not...I don't know. I did ask him to stay there while I go on my tour next week. You're more than welcome to come by and visit him."

Mary winced a bit at Quinn suggesting Sam might not return home but her face brightened at the prospect of seeing him.

"I'd like to talk to him. So would his dad."

"I'll talk to him tonight, about having you over to talk. I'm sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances, though."

Mary regarded Quinn's statement with some thought.

"We just didn't expect him to...to want to leave so soon...we thought we had a few more years with him living at home," Mary said. Quinn saw the tears building up in her eyes. It was all unfamiliar territory with her, really. Her parents had been ready to send her off into the world when the time came. "We tend to forget that he's a year older than his classmates, I guess."

"May I ask you something, Mary?" Quinn asked gently, wading into unfamiliar territory.

"Of course, Quinn..."

"How did you meet Sam's dad?"

Quinn realized she touched upon the right subject when Mary blushed and smiled a little.

"Well, it was in high school actually. He went to a different school from me, but we met when his school was at my school for a basketball game…he was a starter for them and I was a cheerleader. He was a freshman and I was a junior."

"Really?" Quinn said, listening intently. "That's so romantic."

"Well, not really. He made a crazy pass with the basketball and it hit me in the face, Marcia Brady style." Sam's mom laughed, recalling the memory and touching her nose. "He broke it."

"Oh my gosh! What happened then?"

"My nose was gushing blood...what a mess...so my coach took me to the emergency room. I guess Dwight left the game right then and there...he had seen the commotion on the sidelines...and found me in the ER. He apologized over and over and I kept telling him it was an accident. He stayed with me until my parents came to take me home. He checked on me the next few days after that...he found out where I lived from the other cheerleaders. Then, when it was all black and blue and still swollen, he asked me to go to his junior prom. We've been together since then."

"What did your parents say...about you dating a younger man?" Quinn asked.

Mary sighed and began tearing up the paper napkin. "They weren't too thrilled at first, of course...I mean, he did break my nose and all...but they came around after awhile." She smiled. "Dwight was a senior in high school when we found out Sam was on the way."

"Oh!" Quinn didn't know that.

"Yes, we started our family a bit earlier than anticipated. Dwight finished school, though, and I finished 2 years of college…and here we are," Mary said, still smiling.

"Wow," Quinn said, dreamily. "What a great love story."

Mary reached across the table and gripped Quinn's hand. "Quinn, Dwight and I want the same thing for Samuel…we want him to have a great love story, too. We know he's absolutely deliriously happy with you…we just want him to finish school, the world is so much different now than it was 18 years ago."

Quinn blushed a little. "Sam makes me deliriously happy, Mary. I'd never do anything to hurt him. Is it okay if he stays at my house while I'm on my tour? Like I said, you're more than welcome to visit him there or Stevie and Stacy could sleep over…anything…I just hate it that there's animosity between you all right now."

"Thank you for meeting with me today, Quinn. It means a lot to me, and I feel a lot better about Sam and what he's going through…I remember the very same growing pains," Mary said, standing up. "I think he'll be fine staying at your home while you're on tour; he's responsible and maybe this will give him a taste of being on his own."

Quinn hugged Sam's mom. "Tell Dwight thank you for me…"

Mary looked confused. "For…?"

"For breaking your nose," Quinn said, laughing.

**A/N: Happiest of holidays to all my dear readers!**


	17. Ready To Tour

_**Chapter 17~Ready To Tour**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

"So, Sam, I need to tell you something…" Quinn purred later that night, threading her fingers through his hair as he read _Gone With The Wind_. They lay together on the bed in the green bedroom.

"Mhmm…" Sam murmured absently, turning a page. "This book is getting good…"

"What part are you reading?"

"Rhett and Scarlett have gone to New Orleans…"

Quinn smirked. She knew that part well.

"I could wear only a mask for you, if you desire…" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

_He hadn't got to that part yet_, Quinn thought.

He flipped the book over on his chest. "What's up?"

"You won't be mad when I tell you this, will you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Her statement caught his attention.

"I don't think so..." he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Why would I be mad?"

He looked into her eyes as she paused. "You talked to my mom, didn't you?" he asked.

She gasped a little; he could see right into her mind. She nodded finally, and he rolled his eyes.

"No, wait, Sam...it's not like that..." she said, grabbing his arm as he rolled away from her to sit up on the side of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair. "We had a nice talk over lunch..."

He turned suddenly. "You _saw_ her?" Not waiting for Quinn's answer, he stood up and grabbed his backpack, shoving _Gone With The Wind _inside it, then picked up his duffel bag and started shoving his clothes into it. "I'll go to Mike's or Artie's."

"Wait, Sam...wait, what?" she asked, shocked.

"You totally went behind my back and talked to her...I suppose she sweet-talked you into sending me back home, right? Well, no way. I'm outta here..." He looked at Quinn, pausing a moment as if he couldn't believe he had just spoken those words, then turned to leave the room.

"God, Samuel! Get back here!" Quinn cried after him. She heard his footfalls on the staircase so she followed him into the kitchen where he was reaching for his keys and wallet off the island. "Sam...no...it wasn't like that, okay? You can stay here."

He dropped his backpack and duffel bag and turned toward her. "Why would you go talk to her, Quinn? I'm trying to break ties with them!"

Quinn's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Sam...you can't mean that."

"Oh yes I can, Quinn! I'm ready to move out from under their roof!" He paused. "Not so much do I want to move away from Stinky and Stanky, though."

She reached out to him and put her hands on his hips. He pulled her into a hug and sighed.

"You're right…I don't mean that…I do want to stay with you, though…" he told her.

She cupped his face in her hands, smiling warmly up at him. "I know, Sam, and I want you to stay here too. Your mom didn't ask me to have you come home; she just wants to talk to you soon."

He nodded slightly, his eyes closed.

Before she realized what was happening, his mouth was on hers, kissing her aggressively, nipping at her lower lip. He groaned into her mouth, then licked her lips. She opened her mouth, their tongues touching, and she then sucked on his lip, pulling his hips against her hard. His right hand hooked her behind her head, pushing her face against his; his left hand groped her breast, pushing up under her shirt.

He grasped her hips and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his hips, kissing her furiously. Sounds of passion fell from Quinn's lips as she kissed him back, clinging to him and letting him lead her away.

He carried her in his arms, pressed close against him, a tangle of hands in hair and tongues in mouths, until he set her on her dining room table. He quickly dropped his pants and briefs, then yanked her shorts and panties off her and tossed them aside. He pushed her knees apart. She leaned back a bit, steadying herself for what was about to happen.

He grabbed her hips and took a moment to glance down at her pink swollen flesh, then pulled her to him and pushed himself into her hard. They both cried out at the contact. He rammed into her over and over again, the table rocking, her china shaking in the hutch. She clutched his upper arms, sucking on his neck.

"Oh my god, Sam, my god!" she hissed out. She whimpered with his next few thrusts and came, then came again.

Her body was fairly limp, relaxed, when he finished. At the last moment, he pulled out and came on her vagina and thigh, making her moan again. He slid back into her easily.

"Oh…oh…oh…" he grunted quietly over her, heaving sighs in and out.

She lay back on the table and he leaned over her, his hands planted next to her shoulders on the table. She could feel his hips still moving slowly, his penis sliding in and out of her gently now.

"Quinn, good lord Quinn…" he mumbled to her.

She placed her hands palm down on his flushed chest, then started giggling.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" he asked her, his face full of concern.

"No…" she giggled. "No, not at all. We just totally did it on my dining room table!"

She laughed out loud, which, in turn, caused him to begin chuckling. He lifted her up off the table and held her in a tight embrace, both of them laughing.

Quinn caught her breath to speak. "It was good, though, Sam, so so good…"

He kissed her lightly on the lips, then set her down to standing on the floor, pulling on their clothes that had been shed in the moment of passion.

"You're going to stay, right?" she asked him, holding his hand and following him back to the kitchen. She reached for a dish towel, and he got out the cleaning spray.

"Of course I'm staying, Quinn," he said quietly.

In the dining room, he sprayed down the table generously, and she wiped off all traces of their hook-up. They returned to the kitchen to get his duffel bag and backpack.

"I've got some reading to do tonight…" he said, picking up his stuff and heading back upstairs, smiling back at her. "Come read with me?"

"I'd love to come read with you," she replied, following him upstairs.

_xxxxx_

The next few days were spent with Quinn preparing for her first-ever book tour. As the day to leave for Raleigh, North Carolina, approached, the more nervous she became, even though she'd be traveling with her agent from Signa, Marcy, plus the other two authors and their agents.

"I just hope the next three weeks goes by fast..." Sam said the night before her departure, cuddling in her bed with her.

"Me too...tell Stevie and Stacy I hate to miss them..."

"Will do." Sam and his siblings were out of school on fall break and would be staying with him at Quinn's for a week. Then, they decided it'd be best if Sam did go home for the last 2 weeks of her tour, to work things out with his parents and not be alone in the house. Her security system was installed, and her property was very secure now.

"And you'll be talking to your mom and dad, right?" she asked. This was a bone of contention between them; he wasn't ready to talk to his parents, but Quinn, having talked to his mother, knew that he probably should.

"I promise you that I will..." he said, sneaking a kiss from her.

"It's just...I kinda went through the same thing with my 'rents when I found myself unexpectedly preggo...we stopped talking and it was just a mess," she said, running a finger along his bristly cheek. "You're scruffy!"

He smiled and cupped his own hand under his chin, stroking his 'beard'. "Yeah, I've been wanting to try this look...what'd'ya think?"

"Mmm..." she purred, rubbing her smooth cheek against his rough one. "I think it'll make me miss you even more..."

He rolled on top of her, rubbing his coarse cheeks against her neck, making her giggle and writhe beneath him.

"You are unbelievably sexy when you laugh like that," he said into her hair, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips. "Can I try something tonight?"

She was lost in his kisses and mumbled _sure_.

She closed her eyes and let him kiss his way down farther and farther. He pushed her knees apart and looked at the sight before him. He was shaking with nervousness. He had done what research he could (that being asking his friend Mike what to do) but now that he found himself in position he was all nerves. Hesitantly, he touched her there with his finger, running it over her flushed smooth skin. He then slid his finger between her folds, eliciting an excited moan from her. Her hips bucked up, wanting more.

He kissed his way to her pussy, going from her bellybutton to her thighs and finally a kiss where her lips parted. Her reaction when his tongue finally slid into her folds was something Mike had not prepared him for. Quinn nearly screamed and again pushed her hips up to meet his mouth. His tongue found her hardened clit…_erect_, he thought…and he licked her there, then sucked her.

He licked at her gently, hesitantly, not wanting to do something wrong, but the way she was reacting to his tongue and lips was pushing him near the edge. Finally, after being gentle with her, he suddenly grabbed the back of her thighs and pushed her legs up, lifting her hips off the bed. She rested her legs on his shoulders and he pleasured her passionately. Using his entire mouth on her vagina, he entered her with his tongue, using his teeth on her clit. She wasn't holding back her cries any longer. He took a break to lean up over her while using his fingers to penetrate her.

She grabbed his shoulders then, pulling him to her mouth.

"God, Sam...finish me off!"

He went back to her swollen flesh and licked and sucked her until she was moaning in ecstasy, fisting her sheets next to him. He finally was to the point where he couldn't stand it any longer and pushed himself up over her, entering her fully. Her legs were still draped over his shoulders while he rocked above her. It only took a few hard thrusts before he came, groaning above her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him through it. When he began to slow down, she moved her legs from his shoulders to the bed, running her hands down his muscular back.

"Did I...did I do okay?" he asked breathlessly.

"Incredible, Sam...you're making it really, _really_ hard for me to leave..."

He collapsed on the bed next to her. "You're making it really hard for me to let you go..."

Sleep came easily for both of them that night.

_xxxxx_

He loaded her suitcase and carry-on into the backseat of his car, then went back to the house to get her, finding her in her office.

"We're all loaded up, Quinn..." he said, leaning against the door frame.

"Great...I'm just making sure I have everything..." she said to him, poking around her desk. She stopped and looked up at him. He wore slouchy faded blue jeans and a Super Mario Brothers t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. "I just wish I had a few more hours with you."

He came over to her and took her hands. "You know where to find me...we can Skype at night...I want to hear how your signings are going...I wish I could go with you..."

She curled up against him. "How much time do we have?"

He checked the clock on the wall. "Maybe 10 minutes...15 if we drive fast to the airport?"

"Plenty of time..." He felt her hand unzip his jeans.

_xxxxx_

Twenty minutes later, they were rushing through the airport to get to Quinn's terminal. She quickly checked her luggage and went to the gate to board the plane. Sam couldn't stop kissing her; she couldn't stop kissing him.

"I'll call tonight, I promise...I love you so much...I'll miss you..." she whispered to him, hearing the final call to board the jet. She had to tear herself away from him and get on the plane.

"I love you, too, Quinn...I'll be waiting on your call...you better go..." he answered, reluctantly letting go of her arms.

She ran to the gate and turned around and blew him a kiss before running to the ticket checker.

He watched her plane take off from the windows in the terminal, then drove to his house to pick up his siblings.

_xxxxx_

She touched down at the Raleigh-Durham airport about an hour later, retrieved her luggage, and hailed a cab to the Embassy Suites hotel. She checked in at the hotel and called Sam.

"I made it...I'm here! I'm so nervous about tomorrow!" she said as soon as he answered his phone. Her first-ever book signing was the next day at a Barnes & Noble and then at an independently-owned shop called Quail Ridge.

"I'm glad you got in okay...god, I miss you like crazy already..." he said to her. In the background, she could hear his little sister clamoring to say hello.

"I hear Stacy...let me say hello..." Quinn said to him, and he put his sister on the line.

"Guess what, Quinn?" Stacy asked, giggling.

"What?"

"I had Sammy hook up Just Dance 5 and you should see him! He says he's 'shaking it'...it's so funny!"

Quinn laughed, wishing she could see that sight. "Maybe when I get back we can have a dance party..."

"Yeah, that'd be so cool! Okay, bye!" She handed the phone back to Sam.

"Sounds like you all are having a blast already," Quinn said, smiling into the phone. "I wish I could be there."

"Me too...wish you were here..." He sighed. "Just let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay? They'll have security, right?"

"Um, yeah, I think Marcy told me they would. I'm getting ready to meet her for dinner so I'll ask her.

"Okay...just be careful...I worry about the crazies," he said to her. She laughed to herself.

"I'll be fine. You all have fun...wait...did I just hear your mom?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, she's here...she's going to stay here the week with us, you know, so we can figure stuff out..."

Quinn sighed with contentment. "Cool...I'll talk to you tomorrow then...I love you, Samuel."

"I love you too...good luck tomorrow," he said, turning away from his sister and brother and mother to hide his blushing.

They hung up, and Quinn headed off to meet her agent, Marcy, for dinner.

_xxxxx_

"Everything is good to go at Barnes & Noble tomorrow, Quinn. The other two YA authors should be here with their agents by now...extra copies of your books have been ordered...I have a literal ton of pens..." Marcy told her over supper. When Quinn laughed, Marcy went on, "You'd be surprised at how many people will walk off with your pen...believe me! Also, Signa has been promoting your signings at all locations so I anticipate a nice turnout."

"Great...I have a lot of nervous excitement going on right now..." Quinn told her.

"Good...that's normal! You'll be signing for four hours, 8 until noon, break for lunch, and then back from 2 until 6. During the second signing, you'll probably meet a lot of your younger fans, since they'll be out of school. Tomorrow will be the same at Quail Ridge except you'll be the only author there. They are obviously smaller than B & N but have a solid following here in Raleigh. Of course, I'll be there at the store the entire time."

"Oh!" Quinn said, suddenly remembering Sam's request. "My, um, boyfriend asked me if there would be security there...he's just worried, I'm sure."

"The store security, of course, but I haven't arranged any special detail. There have been no threats or anything of that nature reported to Signa. Would you feel more comfortable with a bodyguard?"

Quinn nearly laughed out loud. A bodyguard...for her! It was all just surreal.

"No...no...I'm sure everything will be fine..." she said to Marcy.

They discussed a few more details about the next day and retired to their rooms. Quinn flipped on the television and found it on the local news station. She found her pajamas and began changing into them when she heard the following:

"And citizens of Raleigh and nearby, don't forget tomorrow at the Barnes & Noble located at Triangle Town Center there will be a book signing, including three well-known Young Adult authors..." Quinn listened to the report, hearing her name, seeing her picture. The other two authors wrote about science fiction and the supernatural; she knew one had graduated from Yale a few years before her. That author wrote the supernatural stories.

"Well..." said the female broadcaster. "Only two of those authors are well known; the third, Quinn Fabray, has been in hiding for some time. This will be her first appearance."

"Oh yes," her male counterpart replied. "Ms. Fabray wrote under a pseudonym for some time. My daughters have read all her stories so far and were quite shocked, in fact, to learn the writer was not who they thought."

"Whatever..." Quinn mumbled, clicking off the television. She decided to research the other two authors since she had not read either one's work.

Both were men, both older than her. The one she knew of from Yale, Jensen Cutter, wrote about demons and shape-shifters and witches. The other man, Chet Vickers, wrote about science fiction; from what Quinn could gather, she'd catalog his writing under _alien romance_. At least she'd have Yale in common with Cutter. All three of them were signed with Signa so she assumed they'd have that in common, as well. She hoped to pick their brains as much as possible about book-signing tours as both of them were established authors in the YA genre and had been on tours before.

After doing her quick research on Cutter and Vickers, she sent an x-rated picture of her boobs to Sam as a goodnight, then received a picture back of his bare abs and fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	18. Taryn

_**Chapter 18~Taryn**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

"So...it was a disaster..." Quinn said, on the brink of tears. She sucked in her breath but it sounded more like a sob.

"Do you need me there? I'll drive to you..." Sam said, aching to be with her. "Not now, Stacy..." he whispered to his sister.

"Oh, god, Sam...it was just an awful, awful day..." she said. Her words were muffled; she was curled up in the hotel comforter on the bed.

The day had started fine, she told him, with a limousine picking her and Marcy up at the hotel to deliver them to Barnes & Noble. It was when the limo pulled around the front of the store that they saw the protesters. Men and women holding signs proclaiming "Quinn Fabray: Bad Role Model" and "Young Adult SMUT!" and "Quit Hiding from the Public!" Marcy had assured her that store security would keep the protesters outside the store if they were causing a disturbance, and the limo pulled around to the back of the store to drop them off. They entered the back of the store easily thankfully so Quinn was at least able to catch her breath after seeing the sight out front. She was introduced to the other two authors, Jensen Cutter and Chet Vickers. Chet looked like a _Chet_, an older grandfatherly type man, but he was friendly to her. Cutter, on the other hand, was just barely older than her, sniffed when introduced to her, and refused to shake her hand.

"I see you brought a lot of unfavorable press," he snapped, looking down his straight nose at her. His green eyes flashed anger behind the wire-rimmed glasses, his light brown hair wavy and hanging to his collar with natural highlights of blonde. He wore a light green button-down with a dark green tie and dark blue jeans, but she could see his muscles ripple under the fabric, his jaw clench while he looked at her.

"Bad press is good press, am I right?" she replied, smiling and trying to smooth over any bad feelings.

"Bad press is bad press," he said, walking away from her.

She sighed and looked to Marcy who shrugged her shoulders.

"Ignore him, he's a grade-A ass," she said.

It was 7:45 and time to get situated at her station. Stacks of her books waited to be bought and signed. Marcy provided pens and set a small cooler on the floor at Quinn's feet that was filled with bottles of water and a few cans of pop. A large poster board highlighting Quinn's face, her new picture that would now be used on the book jackets, and listing the series and titles of her published works plus the upcoming story was set up next to her table. She found herself situated between Chet and Cutter and their agents. Marcy knew the other two agents and chatted with them while Quinn waited anxiously for the doors to open.

"So…did you sign a lot?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah, I think so…"

The first person to approach her table was a teenager with a well-worn copy of Quinn's first story. The girl looked nervous to be meeting Quinn.

"Wow…you're so pretty in real life," she said to Quinn. "Um, my name is Amy…" She then spelled it.

Quinn wrote: "Dear Amy, Thank you for reading. Best wishes always, Quinn Fabray."

The girl looked ecstatic after reading Quinn's inscription and talking to her for a few moments until the next fan came up.

"That was probably the best part of the day…getting to meet so many cool people who've taken something from my stories…then there were the jerks…"

Protesters had posed as autograph-seeking fans and approached Quinn's table, demanding to know why she had written such vile things and topics to promote teenage disobedience or why she had used a pseudonym for so long. Security escorted those people away. One protester demanded her autograph and slapped down the most recent story. Quinn signed it simply "Q. Fabray."

She was so grateful for her 2-hour lunch. She and Marcy joined Cutter and Chet and their agents at a nearby restaurant called The Twisted Fork. She chose a brie and bacon grilled cheese sandwich and mushroom brie bisque.

"You sure like your brie, don't you?" Cutter asked her, digging into his Dagwood club.

_He's such an ass_, Quinn thought, though she smiled and nodded and then said, "It's just cheese." She wasn't going to let him get to her.

"How're you holding up, Quinn?" Chet asked her nicely. "Good, I hope. Some people are just very opinionated."

"Yeah, well, she better have thick skin, then, if she can't handle what people say about her writing," Cutter interrupted.

"It wasn't about my _writing_," Quinn said quietly. "It was about the _content_. They were commenting on my life. My stories are my life."

"Tell me, Ms. Fabray, when will you be writing about your young boy-toy?" Cutter asked sharply.

Quinn's mouth dropped open.

Marcy chuckled. "That's enough, Jensen. Quinn will not be writing about her _current _life. In fact, she has a lot of back story to put on the market, which her readers have requested."

Quinn sipped her chocolate mint cappuccino while Cutter sipped his white zinfandel and stared at her.

"So, you graduated from Yale, Jensen?" she asked to change the subject.

"Mhmm…I earned my doctorate from Yale in English."

"I graduated from Yale, as well," Quinn said, trying another smile.

Something finally got through to him, and he smiled back at her. "Fellow Bulldogs, then."

She nodded, her smile growing larger. "May I ask you something, Jensen?"

"Sure, why not…"

"Where do you get your ideas, for what you write?" she asked.

He smiled at her, quite a dazzling smile.

"It's stuff I thought up when I was a kid…just putting all my imagination on paper," he told her.

"Are any of your characters _you_?"

"Different parts of different monsters are me," he laughed. "There are a few of my human qualities scattered about my books…not too many though." He looked at her kindly, finally. "Your books seem very popular."

She shrugged a bit. "Just writing what I know. Hopefully get through to someone who's dealing with issues similar to mine in the past."

"I'm sure you'll meet readers who identify with what you write…that's usually very engaging…you can learn from them," Cutter told her. "Give you new perspectives."

"Interesting…thank you, Jensen. This…book signing, meeting readers…is all so new to me," Quinn said, laughing nervously.

"The first time out is usually somewhat overwhelming," Chet chimed in.

"Are you ready for the next four hours?" Cutter asked her.

"I hope so..."

Lunch had relaxed Quinn, so much so that she was completely unprepared for the shitstorm about to happen at Barnes & Noble.

They returned to their stations at 3 p.m. and now an actual crowd had formed, mainly kids who had just gotten out of school. The first few people to approach Quinn's table were die-hard fans...fans of her official fan club, they said. She had no idea there was a fan club _for her _out there. They gave her a scrapbook of greetings from other members of the fan club, then asked for pictures with her. She acquiesced until Marcy told them no more. She signed everything they brought with them. Then, the next group she dealt with were more protesters. Those people were escorted out by store security again. Then, Quinn noticed police officers in uniform were manning the perimeter of the book-signing area. She glanced at Chet and Cutter and neither one of them were dealing with unruly people, just her. Eventually, the protesters were rerouted to outside the store once again, but she could still hear their hateful chants. She overheard the store manager saying local news stations were outside, interviewing the protesters.

_Do my stories cause such outrage in people? _she wondered.

It seemed for every fan of her writing there were three people protesting her.

"Don't listen to them...they're just jealous," the next person in line said to her. She looked up tiredly at a young blonde-haired girl. "Jealous that they weren't as cool as you in high school. I'm Taryn, by the way, and a big fan of yours, since book number one."

"Nice to meet you, Taryn. Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you like my stories. Are you still in school?"

"Yep, last year for me, then I'm moving on...I was once on top, like you were, and then some stuff happened and I find myself clawing my way up from the bottom of the heap. I guess I identify with what you write," Taryn said to her.

Jensen's words came back to Quinn, and she shuddered with realization.

"Taryn...what a unique name...how do you spell it?" Quinn asked her, getting ready to sign the book she brought. Quinn glanced at it; it was the story about her pregnancy coming to light.

Taryn spelled her name for Quinn.

Quinn signed her book and slid it back across the table to Taryn. "So, Taryn, did you give up your baby too?"

Taryn looked shocked by Quinn's question and hugged the book to her chest. "Uh, um, thank you Ms. Fabray..." she said and practically ran away. Once away from the crowd, Taryn stopped to read Quinn's inscription and found Quinn's personal email address along with the words _we should talk soon_.

"So that was pretty interesting," Quinn retold to Sam.

"Sounds like it...what's this Cutter dude's problem? From what you've told me, he's kinda makin' me pissed off..."

"He's just an ass, like Marcy told me. Full of himself or threatened by me or something. Chet's really nice, like a grandpa," Quinn said, laughing a little. "I guess they're going on the same tour as I am so I just need to learn to get along with Cutter or else I'll really be miserable, with him plus people who hate me and my stories."

"Ugh...I don't like the sound of him and all those protesters. Maybe you should have Marcy check into tighter security from here on out? Hey, I'll send ya a fun pic I took this morning...if you want it...maybe you can send me one back," he said to her. She could hear the teasing in his voice, and she missed him so much then.

"Oh yeah? You realize sending me pictures like that will just make my wrist hurt more!" she laughed. "My right hand is like a claw right now!"

He laughed with her. "How'd the other bookstore go?"

She sighed, remembering Quail Ridge. "It was more low-key. Chet and Cutter weren't there; it was just me. I saw maybe 100 people. From what Marcy said, sales were great today, though, so I guess that's a plus."

Her phone buzzed in her hand. He had sent her a picture of his abs, taken in her bathroom mirror. From what she could tell, he was wearing little more than a smile.

"God, Samuel Evans...I miss you and your body!" she purred. He snickered. "I'll send you a pic later on...when I'm getting ready for bed."

"Good, I'll be waiting," he said. "The kids have been good so far...nothing's been broken. I am kinda glad my mom is here too...we've talked some."

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?" Quinn asked him.

"Eh, so-so. She listened this time around and didn't yell or cry. She just wants me to be at home until I graduate, I guess."

"I see. What did you tell her?"

He sighed. "I told her that eventually I'd be moving out of their home and it might be sooner than later...she'd just have to get used to that fact. I don't know. I'll graduate in a few months so...I asked about my curfew...if I stayed at home would I still have a crappy midnight curfew...and she was like 'I'll have to talk to your dad'," Sam said, mimicking his mom's voice.

"Maybe if they eased up on the curfew it'd be easier...tell Stacy and Stevie I said hi...I miss you, Smelly," she said, giggling.

He snorted. "I miss you too. I'll be thinking of you. You're driving to Charlotte tomorrow, right?"

"Yep...the book signing is the day after that at another Barnes & Noble. You know, after talking to you, I feel a lot better about how crappy today was," she said.

"I hate it that you were treated like that...I would've kicked those people's ass! And that Cutter dude, what a piece of work. Just make sure the security detail keeps a close eye on you, okay?"

"I will...love you, Sam..." she said and hung up after he voiced the same sentiment to her. She did feel a lot better after speaking with him, except for her right hand, it was still cramped up.

She went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and pop some Tylenol for her hand. She remembered his selfie picture and grabbed her phone. After stripping down to her cotton bra and panties, she snapped a picture in the mirror to send to Sam. She had one hand on her hip, her feet planted on the floor shoulder-width apart, the other hand holding her phone, and a slight smile on her lips, the blonde ends of her hair just touching her shoulders. One bra strap dangled precariously off her shoulder. She sent the picture and waited for a response. Fifteen minutes later, she got a reply...another picture of his abs, covered in jizz.

xxxxx

The next day, Quinn and Marcy were transported to Charlotte, North Carolina, in a black stretch Hummer, along with Chet, Cutter, and their two agents. The vehicle was still spacious enough for all of them. Quinn took those couple hours to catch up on the news on her iPad. She was more than a little stunned to see that her book signing had made headlines in USA Today. In fact, some of the pictures she had taken with fans were on their website. She wondered if Charlotte would be the same or better or worse. If worse, she would definitely talk to Marcy about security detail for the rest of their stops.

She had a new family-friendly picture from Sam of him and his siblings, taken by his mother she guessed, while they were having breakfast. She missed his strong arms and the feel of his chest under her head. She had another email, this one from the girl at Barnes & Noble yesterday, Taryn.

_Dear Quinn..._

_I'm so sorry for my behavior yesterday at B&N. It's just...you really freaked me out by knowing...how could you guess? I'll be at your signing in Charlotte..is there any way we could meet to talk? It's about my baby._

_Thank you so much...Taryn_

"Marcy, we have a 2-hour lunch break tomorrow, right? I might meet someone for lunch then..." Quinn asked.

"Ooooh, the BF?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "No, just someone who'd like to meet to talk..."

"Do you know this person? If it's some crazed fan, then no. Meet in public if they're not crazy. Who is it?"

"I don't think she's crazy...she's just a young girl..." Quinn laughed a bit. "A younger version of me, I guess. I think she's had to give up a baby for adoption...I could see it in her eyes yesterday. She's emailed me asking if we could meet to talk tomorrow. Maybe you could be nearby?"

"And you met her yesterday?" Marcy asked.

"Yes...and she totally didn't seem threatening, just scared really," Quinn answered.

"If you feel okay about it, then fine. We'll eat nearby though."

"Thanks Marce..." Quinn said, already replying to Taryn.

xxxxx

The Charlotte Barnes & Noble was much like the one in Raleigh, in its appearance and the protesters out front. Chet and Cutter both seemed to have adapted to the crowds now, hoping to sell more copies of their books and gain some press. It just turned Quinn's stomach to see those people protesting about her life, is what it came down to. It wasn't that they were protesting poor writing; they were protesting the content of her books..._her life_. Chet and Cutter were right, though, she was going to have to brace herself for criticism and deal with it.

Her table was set up much the same as in Raleigh...pens, the nearly life-size poster, the cooler Marcy brought, and stacks of her books. In Raleigh, that stack had been completely sold out by the end of her day of signing, much to Quinn's astonishment. In fact, according to Marcy, of the three authors signing in Raleigh, she had sold the most...not that it was a competition or anything, Marcy said winking. Cutter overhead her and snorted.

At noon, Quinn, along with Marcy, Chet, Cutter, and the others, went to lunch at Panera Bread. Quinn spied Taryn right away, already sitting at a table far from other customers. She looked nervous. Marcy and her group found a table within view and Quinn went on over.

"Taryn! Hello! How are you?" Quinn asked as Taryn stood up.

"Um, hello Quinn...I'm feeling kind of, well, pukey today..."

Quinn frowned, hoping it wasn't a bug she could catch. "Maybe some soup...?"

Taryn smiled then. "Oh no...maybe some saltines...it's morning sickness."

Quinn's expression was at first confusion, then shock, then smiling. "So...you're pregnant now? I thought you had already had the baby."

Taryn laughed. "No, no...I'm about 3 months along, I guess...and I just...just don't know what to do..." Her smile faded and doubt and worry crossed her face.

Quinn touched her arm lightly. "Let's get something to eat and sit down and talk, okay?"

Taryn nodded and followed Quinn to the counter to order some lunch. In the rushed atmosphere when they first met, Quinn didn't remember much about the girl, except that she reminded her of herself. Now, getting a chance to really see her, she saw that this girl while looking like her was definitely her own person. She wore no makeup that Quinn could tell and had a black beanie covering her blonde hair. The rest of her outfit was gray and black with the exception of a white short skirt. She had a tiny diamond stud in her nose and a slim golden band on her right ring finger that she twisted every now and again.

They ordered their lunch and sat back down to talk.

"I gather that cheese is the only thing that sounds good to you right now?" Quinn asked Taryn, smiling. Taryn had a grilled cheese and something called macaroni and cheese soup. Quinn had French onion soup and a salad.

Taryn looked at Quinn and smiled with her. "As a matter of fact, it is."

"I guess congratulations are in order, yes?" Quinn finally asked after a long pause.

Taryn sighed. "I don't know yet. No one knows, not even the, uh, father."

"I just knew I couldn't raise a baby when I was so young and I couldn't…" Quinn took a breath at that point. "…terminate the pregnancy. The only other option for me was adoption."

They were both quiet again.

"My parents will be so disappointed. My boyfriend will be disappointed. We both are going to college…I've got an art scholarship and he's got a swimming scholarship…and, oh my god…I don't know what we're gonna do…" Taryn said quietly. She sucked in a breath and brushed away a tear sliding down her cheek.

"This is my advice…take it for what it's worth. Tell your boyfriend…you shouldn't be stressing over this alone. Then, you both need to tell your parents. Adoption could be an option for you; the baby would be born before you go to college. It could be done, Taryn."

"Yeah, I've worked out the timing…" Taryn said, picking at her food. "Actually _having_ the baby freaks me out _a lot_."

Quinn laughed in spite of Taryn's teary face. "As it should!"

Quinn finished her lunch quickly and pushed it aside. "Taryn, I've been there. Being scared, nervous, feeling like an epic fail…it sucks…it does. But, you'll make it…you or you and your boyfriend will make a decision and then be strong. I'm not saying it's easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but you kinda have to look to the future…_your _future and this baby's future."

Taryn nodded slightly and mumbled _thank you_, then attempted a few bites of soup.

"I really can't thank you enough, Quinn," Taryn said. "Would it be okay if I…I kept in contact with you?"

"Sure…I'd like to hear from you and how things go. What school are you going to?"

"Um, we're both going to Miami…we're both really looking forward to it…"

"Do you live in Raleigh and drove all the way here to see me?" Quinn asked her.

"Oh no, I live here in Charlotte; I drove to Raleigh to see you yesterday…I didn't think I'd run into anyone I knew there," Taryn told her, then jumped a little when her phone rang.

"Oh...oh my god, it's him..." Taryn said suddenly, after pulling her phone from her pocket at the sound of Coldplay's ringtone. "Hi Brady...I'm at Panera on Southpark Road...uh, meeting with one of my favorite authors actually..." She smiled at Quinn, then frowned into the phone. "Sure, yeah, that's great...I'll wait on you...love you too..."

Taryn clicked her phone off and sighed. "He's coming to meet me here."

Quinn's eyes opened wide. "Um, well, are you going to break the news to him?"

Taryn nodded, still looking quite unsure. "Yeah...yeah, I think so..."

"M'kay...I'll go sit with my group...you can do it...just look over to me if you need support..." Quinn told her before standing up. "You seem like a strong, smart girl...reminds me of someone I know..." Quinn flipped her eyes up and smiled a bit. "I did it; you can do it."

Taryn stood up and hugged Quinn. "I'll be in touch...thank you so very much, Quinn."

Quinn hugged her, then went to Marcy's table.

"So, how did your meet and greet go?" Cutter asked her.

"Fine...she's about to drop a bomb on the boyfriend," Quinn replied.

Later that night over Skype, she told Sam what had happened: "The boyfriend got there...a tall skinny guy...obviously taken with Taryn. He hugged her immediately when he arrived. They sat down and she glanced at me just once before she started really talking to him. When she told him the news, he grabbed her hands, then embraced her, then they were both smiling and I'm pretty sure there were some tears from both of them. She looked at me again before they left together, and she smiled. I hope it works out for them." Quinn recalled to herself how gently Brady had put his palm on Taryn's flat belly.

"Wow...sounds kinda emotional..."

"Yeah, it was. Taryn thinks she's so much like me...ha...it didn't go that way when I told my babydaddy the big news," Quinn said. "But, I'm happy for her. They were both all smiles when they left Panera. She said she'll be in touch so hopefully I'll find out what happens. All I know is it's _so _good to see your face..."

"I've missed you, Quinn...a lot. I needed to see you tonight," he said quietly into the computer. "Where do you go next?"

"Virginia..." she sighed. "It's for lovers, you know. Your beard is kinda reddish, yes?"

He smiled at her from her home in Charleston and stroked his goatee. "A little, yeah. I know, for _lovers_...maybe I can work something out and come meet you at one of your signings? I'm not sure I can wait until you get home to see you again."

She nibbled her lip. She kind of wanted him in her bed at that moment. "Don't skip school or work or anything but that'd be cool...I'll email you the schedule."

"Awesome..." Stacy and Stevie showed up behind him, and Quinn said hello to them, then she saw Sam's mother usher them out of the room.

She finally signed off with Sam, reluctantly, but fell asleep easily.


	19. Sweet Dream

_**Chapter 19~Sweet Dream**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

The view was hazy, but she could see Sam sitting on the beach in front of her house. She was watching him from the porch. The day was hot, the sun high in the summer sky, the ocean sending a cool breeze up to where she stood. He sat facing the ocean, his back bare and glistening in the sun. His hair was even blonder than usual. She could see his bare knees underneath his elbows. She considered running down to him to take him some sunscreen; he was surely going to get sunburned, but she didn't. She just watched him. The breeze would pick up his blonde locks every once in awhile. She focused on one bead of sweat coursing down his back slowly. Then, she was standing right behind him, crouching to kiss his sunkissed shoulders. She felt his lips on her cheek, a hot kiss in every sense of the phrase. He wore black shades but didn't speak to her. She glanced down to find him naked and wondered if the hot sand was burning his ass, possibly his balls. She still didn't say anything, just gazed at him. She offered him her hand, and he stood up. His skin was bronze now, slightly pinked from the sun's rays. The tiny gold hairs on his chest gleamed in the sun. She could see clearly the redness of his beard. She distinctly felt it tickle her cheek as he kissed her before he walked off toward the ocean's edge.

He walked slowly. She watched from where his hair fell at his shoulders, how his arms were so relaxed at his sides, the muscles working in his back, his perfect ass, his strong thighs and calves...not a speck of sand on his body...only sun and sweat. He turned to look at her, his shades were now gone and his blue eyes shining, a sexy smile. He held his hand out to her. She wanted to go to him, but she was dressed and couldn't get into the ocean water without ruining her clothes...

She looked down at herself and surprisingly she was naked too. She saw the blue water ticking his toes where he stood waiting, and she yearned for that coolness, the cool water to counterbalance her heat. She felt her feet moving her to the ocean's edge and then was holding Sam's hand.

He led her into the cool water. She could distinctly feel every goosebump on her skin as they stepped deeper into the tide. The sun shimmered on the water, varying shades of blues and greens and grays and whitecaps. He turned to face her and she looked down his body, unable to take his piercing gaze. Another line of sweat was making its way down his chest, through the light brown hair, curving around a pink nipple, down his abdominal muscles to his bellybutton, and she found herself staring at his penis. The sun shone on his manhood, like a spotlight just for her eyes. The length was pink in the sun, hanging from a thatch of darker hair. To her, he was created in perfection. She found herself pulling her gaze from his cock to his eyes.

A bit of a wave pushed her then...they were now waist deep in the water, facing one another, barely touching. He raised an arm from his side, reaching to her, pulling her closer to him. Soon, all the curves of her body fit into the contours of his body. Her lips were on his lips, a deep hot kiss, heated breath, tongues tasting one another. She could feel the heat of his skin on her fingertips as she moved her hands from his shoulders to his biceps, then to his chest and his hips. His hands were gliding down her back, cupping her ass, then he lifted one thigh up to his waist. She could feel his cock between her legs, hard, pushing at her. She wanted him more than ever. She tilted her head back, allowing him to suck her neck and lift her other leg up around his waist. The insistent pressing against her finally penetrated her, deeply, and she moaned, raking her fingers into his hair.

"Quinn? Quinn…are you in there? Are you okay?"

What an odd thing for Sam to say to her while they made love in the ocean waters. And why was he banging on wood? Were they on a boat now?

"Quinn? Am I going to have to break your door down?"

The dream ended for Quinn, and she was pissed. Someone was knocking on her hotel door at…she glanced at the alarm clock…7:14 a.m. She didn't have to be up until 8! She threw off the comforter and pulled on the hotel robe quickly, stomping to the door of her room.

Not bothering to check the peephole, she whipped the door open to see one Jensen Cutter standing before her, dressed for the day, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

Quinn stared at Cutter through blurry, sleep-heavy eyes. He wore an emerald green sweater over a white button-up, the collar and tail hanging out sloppily but fashionably. He wore indigo blue jeans with just the right amount of slouch and black loafers. An expensive silver watch, matching his glasses, wrapped around his left wrist as he held out the cup of coffee to her.

"Just waking up, I take it?" he asked, smiling.

"I was in the middle of a great dream..." she mumbled, taking the coffee. "What's with the coffee?"

"Well, you're welcome and I thought I'd come ask you to breakfast," he replied.

"Where are the others?"

"They left to go check out an estate auction, you know, for antiques and whatnot...not really my thing." He put air-quotes around the word _thing_. "And I didn't want to dine alone."

Quinn sipped the hot coffee, instantly waking her up...the memory of her steamy dream long gone. "Give me a few minutes to make myself presentable and I'll meet you downstairs." She closed the door quietly, to his beaming smile.

_xxxxx_

Quinn arrived in the hotel's restaurant fifteen minutes later. She had chosen a pale blue skirt with matching blazer and nude heels and a pale blue pearl choker and earrings. Cutter was waiting for her at a table and stood when he saw her approaching. She doffed the blazer, leaving her in a white shell.

"Shall we?" he asked her, glancing at the breakfast buffet.

"Sure..." She took the lead and he followed her. She felt his hand at the low curve of her back, auspiciously guiding her to the beginning of the line.

Thankfully, guests could go through the buffet on both sides so she chose the side farthest from Cutter and he stayed on his side. Of course, the entire time they chose their breakfast items, he kept stealing glances at her but she could feel each time his eyes fell on her.

At the end of the line, she bluntly asked him, "Why are you staring at me?"

He didn't answer her until they sat down again. "No reason, really. I just expected you to be some uppity bitch is all, and, well, you're not. In fact, you're quite entrancing."

Quinn stared at her bagel. She didn't care for where this conversation was heading.

"Jensen, I...I'm involved with someone but that's very flattering...thank you," she stammered, hating herself for blushing.

"You're most welcome, Quinn. I know you have a young boy-toy...I've heard the rumors and seen the pictures. The boy-toy isn't here now, is he? I am," he said, sipping his juice.

"That's where you're wrong, Cutter...he's much more than a _boy-toy_...actually, he's more of a man than you'll ever aspire to be," she said quietly. "And, trust me, he's _here_." She very gently laid her hand over her heart, then went back to her breakfast.

Jensen chuckled. "Sure, fine...just remember that when you're lonely in a few days. These tours do it to you."

He also went back to his breakfast. They spent the rest of their time together in silence.

Just as Quinn was finishing her meal and planning on returning to her room to get her belongings together (that day was another travel day), Marcy and the others burst into the restaurant to find her and Cutter. They were obviously bubbling over with news.

"You two are not going to believe this!" Chet said, clapping his hands together.

"Did you score some decent antiques?" Cutter asked him, not interested.

"Even better!" Marcy answered. "We met a manager of none other than Williamsburg Booksellers!"

Quinn and Cutter looked at the group, still not understanding.

"Williamsburg, Virginia? Hello? College of William and Mary?"

"Okay, yes, go on..." Quinn said.

"Apparently, they had a book signing fall through. We got to talking and..." Dramatic pause. "They asked if you three could come!"

Quinn thought that sounded exciting; she had never been to Williamsburg before. Cutter, though, had questions.

"Isn't that, like, all historic? Why would they want us there?"

"They sell current fiction, believe it or not," his agent told him. "And, we asked them the same thing."

Cutter shrugged, as if to say _whatever_.

"Wait...what about Norfolk and Richmond?" Quinn asked. Those were the next two stops on their tour, then Washington, DC.

"There isn't enough time to cancel on Norfolk and Richmond, so we're keeping that schedule. We decided to squeeze our visit to Williamsburg in between Richmond and Washington. After Richmond, there is a three-day hiatus until Washington...it works out perfectly!" Chet's agent told them. "You haven't heard the best part..."

"There's more?" Cutter asked, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, there's more alright!" Marcy added.

Chet picked up the details from here. "The other group who had to cancel already had reservations in place, and, since they had to cancel their engagement, they left the reservations in place for anyone the bookstore could find to take their place. So, with a little rearranging of our travel schedule, we have free accommodations for three nights at..." Another dramatic pause. "The Chiswell-Bucktrout House!"

There was silence and a lot of blinking from Quinn and Cutter while the other four anxiously awaited their response.

Finally, Quinn shrugged. "I-I'm sorry...I'm not sure what you-"

"It's one of the original houses in Williamsburg! We'll be staying right in the thick of all of it! Plus, Mr. Martin, the bookstore manager, is going to talk to his boss about setting up a tour and whatnot while we're there." Chet's agent explained. "Here...here's a picture of the house..." He fiddled with his phone and turned it around to show Quinn and Cutter.

Quinn expected something more...older, rundown...than what he showed her. It was a broad white-sided two-story home with six windows across the front and three dormers on top.

"Oh...so there will be plenty of room for us all..." she said.

"It'll be like staying at home," Chet said happily. "Yes, we'll each have a separate room that includes a private bathroom."

"As soon as we change travel plans to Washington, DC, from Williamsburg, we'll be leaving for Norfolk...we should still be leaving on time today," Marcy said, leading the others out. They were all happily chirping along. Cutter turned to face Quinn.

"Well! It appears we'll be housemates!" he said, now nearly as happily as Marcy.

Quinn forced a smile.

_xxxxx_

Having revised their travel schedule, the group of six left for Norfolk, Virginia, where the authors would be signing their books at another Barnes & Noble. That evening, she Skyped with Sam.

"Anything new and exciting happen?" he asked her after the usual _I miss you_'s and _I love you_'s.

She sighed. "Nope...pretty much the same as in North Carolina. I heard from Taryn. She and her boyfriend told their parents and I guess it was the classic shit-show. They're just waiting for the inevitable fallout, I guess. And, our schedule has changed."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep...we go to Richmond tomorrow, then we're flying into Williamsburg, Virginia, and we'll be there for three nights, through the weekend, I guess." She explained to him what had happened in Charlotte.

"That's cool...we took a fieldtrip there once..."

"Really? What should I expect?" she asked him.

"History...lots and lots of history..." he laughed. Even over the computer, she could tell how his blue eyes shined. "Nah, it was cool. Sounds like a nice place they're putting you up at."

"It's like a house...an original house or something." She told him which one. "I'll have my own room. I guess they're going to set up a tour also for us. We'll be signing on Friday night and Saturday morning, then we'll have Saturday night and Sunday free. We'll be flying to Washington, DC, on Monday morning."

"What bookstore will you be at, in Williamsburg?"

"Um, I think they said Williamsburg Bookshop or Booksellers…something like that…not a lot of time to promote us so it'll probably be dead," she said. "I'm enjoying this but I hate being away from home, away from you. I had the best dream _ever _this morning…"

"Oh yeah? Tell me about it…" he said, his voice deep.

She told him about the dream and, for the first time, watched her boyfriend masturbate online as she talked him through it.

_xxxxx_

The next day, they drove to Richmond, Virginia, for their signing the following day. After that signing, they would be on a plane in the morning, flying into Williamsburg on Friday for a signing that evening.

The Richmond signing was much the same as the ones before it…held at a Barnes & Noble, Marcy providing the promo materials, lots of books on-hand to sign, lots of readers to meet, a few protesters to turn away. As soon as the signing was finished, they retired to another hotel to rest up for an early commuter flight to Williamsburg. She spoke with Sam that evening; they both wished they could spend a little time together…it had been almost a week that they had been apart.

"Soon…" Sam whispered over Skype, then blew her a kiss and signed off.

**A/N: Sorry...this chapter was a bit shorter than the ones before it. A longer chapter is coming up! :))**


	20. Williamsburg

_**Chapter 20~Williamsburg**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Quinn was on the small plane the next morning at 6:30 a.m. and in Williamsburg twenty minutes later. Mr. Martin, the manager who had arranged their visit, met them at the airport and then followed them to the Chiswell-Bucktrout House. Now, there in person, it appeared much larger than the picture Quinn had seen. The host of the house greeted their group at the front door and led them inside through the foyer to the common room at the back of the house while the limo driver brought in their luggage.

"Good morning, guests," she said. "I'm Mrs. Bucktrout, wife of Benjamin, a powder mill owner, carpenter, and cabinet maker. We were originally from London before sailing to Virginia. Welcome to our home!"

Quinn could tell she was a historical re-enactor, her job to portray a character and pass along information. She was already dressed in historical garb, a short round woman with gray hair covered by a white cap. Her dress was plain navy blue covered by a white apron.

"The home was built before 1766 by Colonel John Chiswell who was a hot-tempered man indeed. He was accused of murder and died in 1766 before he went to trial. My husband bought the home around 1770. We lived here for a good decade, a very good ten years. Mr. Davenport bought the house then and operated a tavern out of it. Let me show you around!"

She returned the group to the center of the home, still talking.

"We have nine bedrooms, six down and three up. In these modern times, each bedroom has its own private bath, but, in my day, we had other means, located out of doors," Mrs. Bucktrout tittered. They walked down a short hall with three doors opening into bedrooms, the fourth door opening into a bathroom, which then opened into the fourth bedroom.

"We have five rooms with queen-sized beds, a room with a double-sized bed, and the other rooms have twins."

The group all peeked in at the first four bedrooms, then Mrs. Bucktrout led them back to the main hallway, back to the common room, and to the other two rooms downstairs, which were connecting rooms. One of those rooms contained a fireplace.

The fireplace room also opened into the foyer, so they exited there and followed their host upstairs. At the top of the stairs, there was one bedroom to their left and a short hallway to their right where the last two bedrooms were located.

The larger beds were all canopy beds. The other furniture was period replica furniture but all matched perfectly to the bedclothes of each room.

"Okay group, I say we divvy up the queen-sized rooms and one of us will need to take the double-sized bed," Marcy said when they stopped in the largest bedroom upstairs.

They all looked at one another, all shrugging.

"I'll take the double room…I'm fine with that…I have a double at home," Chet said, smiling. "It's not a problem."

"Good…I'll take the fireplace room downstairs, and you can take the adjoining room," Cutter said, nodding at his agent.

"Why don't we take these two upstairs queens, Marcy?" Quinn asked, thinking it would put a good distance between her and Cutter.

"Sounds good."

Chet's double was also upstairs, so his agent would be staying downstairs with Cutter and his agent.

"With that decided," Mrs. Bucktrout went on. "You might've noticed that my spacious home has no kitchen facility. In my day, our kitchen was built in a separate smaller building away from the main home, due to fire and odors. What is now the common room was the dining room in my day. Nowadays, the outside kitchen is used as rooms for visitors, but if you'll follow me…"

She led the group down to the main level of the home and then down to a lower level through a door in the common room. "We thought our guests would appreciate having a kitchenette on site…here we are!"

They found themselves in a small well-lit kitchenette with a nice dining area and small recreation room/library with fireplace. Mrs. Bucktrout opened the refrigerator and cabinets, showing the group that the kitchenette was well stocked already.

"And, of course, we provide free wifi for our guests," Mrs. Bucktrout told them to a bit of laughter. "After you put away your belongings, we'll hand out room keys and then take you all to breakfast at the Williamsburg Inn. After breakfast, you will have a short walking tour so dress appropriately."

Quinn decided to buy into the historic tour bit since Cutter had been noticeably rolling his eyes the entire time. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Bucktrout, for opening your home to us. It is beautiful. We appreciate your hospitality."

Mrs. Bucktrout was tickled by Quinn's kindness. "You are most welcome, miss. Also, as an added benefit for my guests, I will be on the premises during the daytime hours, mainly to direct tourists to other destinations, since this is a private home."

They followed Mrs. Bucktrout upstairs to retrieve their luggage and choose their rooms. Quinn was in room 3037; Marcy in 3036. They followed Chet upstairs with their bags.

"Well, Marcy, I just have to say…I meant what I said downstairs, this home is beautiful…what a lovely place to stay. I might even try to write some while we're here," Quinn told her agent.

They entered their rooms to drop off their luggage and change clothes if needed. Quinn's room opened into a short hallway with the bathroom just off the door, then the actual room opened up to the right as one walked in. Her room was done in pinks and reds with splashes of purple and had two windows. The canopy bed was nice and solid, and there was a loveseat and a side chair, nightstand, and dresser. No television but an alarm clock. She changed clothes quickly, from her skirt set into jeans, a cardigan and shell, and sneakers. She decided to try the wifi and turned on her laptop. It worked quickly, and she sent Sam a quick message that they were in Williamsburg and settled in. She then met Marcy and Chet and headed downstairs to go to breakfast.

The group stepped outside of the Chiswell-Bucktrout House to see two black horse-drawn carriages awaiting them. Both drivers hopped down sprightly from their benches to help the ladies inside. The drivers were decked out in the 'livery', Mrs. Bucktrout told them, of Williamsburg. The men wore gray vests and pants, white knee socks, and blue overcoats, as well as hats with black feathers. The interior of the carriages was burgundy crushed velvet with brass tacks and black leather. The drive was smooth, surprisingly, and Quinn watched out her window at her surroundings, fascinated by all the townsfolk meandering about and going about their business as if it were 1776.

The carriages soon pulled into the semi-circle drive of an expansive white brick building, and the drivers helped the guests out and to the patio.

"Good morning and welcome to Williamsburg Inn!" an older gentleman said, coming out of the Inn. "Please allow me to introduce myself...I am the Inn's general manager, Joseph McFarland, and we are most pleased to serve you this morning. Please, come this way..."

Mr. McFarland led them into the front of the Inn, a large impressive lobby filled with furniture covered in red velvet with gold and cream accents. Mr. McFarland led them to the left, down a marbled hallway to where they were dining, The Terrace Room. They were seated at a round table overlooking the gardens and maze of the Inn. Cutter pushed past his agent and Marcy to sit next to Quinn. He smiled at her, but she regarded him coolly.

"Please, be our guest and experience a culinary wonder from our menu," Mr. McFarland said, gesturing toward the menus at each place setting. A waiter appeared and filled their water glasses with Cutter asking for a black coffee.

The group discussed the Inn and the house where they would be staying and even Mrs. Bucktrout's re-enactment abilities until the waiter returned. He had Cutter's coffee plus small fruit cocktails for all of them. He also set down carafes of orange, apple, and cranberry juices.

Quinn began to reach for the cranberry juice, but Cutter beat her to it and poured her a glass.

"Thank you, Jensen," she said. She then ordered her breakfast and gazed at the gardens, watching the birds flit around from flower to branch.

"Really, Quinn, you don't need to be so..._cold_...toward me," Cutter said under his breath.

Quinn chuckled. "Jensen, I am not being _cold_ toward you. It's more like indifference." She continued looking out the great windows.

"I'm just.._attempting_...to be friendly to you, Quinn, and get to know you better," he said to her. "If you would give me a chance, you'd see how much more of a man I am than your young friend."

"Jensen, I know all I need to know about you and I know that you are most certainly not right for me. My _young friend_, on the other hand, _is_ right for me. Now, please, let me enjoy my breakfast and the conversation."

She turned slightly in her seat to avoid looking at him and listened to what the others were discussing. She could feel his burning stare at her back, but she continued to ignore him. She wasn't quite sure why he kept pursuing her as she had already explained to him, quite clearly she thought, that she was involved with someone else and not interested in him.

_He just doesn't like being told no_, she thought smugly.

Breakfast was finally served, and they all examined each other's meals. Quinn had ordered an egg-white omelet with Virginia ham, asparagus, tomato, spinach, and Gruyere cheese with freshly baked cracked wheat bread and fresh butter. Everyone's breakfast looked and smelled divine, even Cutter's Belgian waffle.

The meal would've been perfect, had it not been for Cutter's relentless complaining. His waffle was hard, the syrup was not hot, the coffee was not strong enough, his bacon was chewy. It was one complaint after another. Quinn became embarrassed for him.

Finally, Mr. McFarland returned to their table to tell them what had been planned for them for that morning and afternoon. They had a few hours before the book signing so there was time for tours.

"Since you all are authors, we thought you'd enjoy some writing history. We have a bindery and printing office for you to visit before lunch, and, after lunch, you may visit any of the shops or buildings you'd like. They've told me your book signing begins at 7 p.m. this evening and that the carriages will deliver you to Williamsburg Booksellers at 6:30 p.m. These are for you..." He handed out printed maps of Williamsburg. "...to help you get around."

Quinn unfolded her map and tried to get her bearings and see what all there was to see. The others, with the exception of Cutter, did the same. There was excited chatter at the table, discussing places to visit and things to see and do.

They were soon escorted to the waiting carriages to be taken to the bindery and printing office. Quinn noticed there were no motorized vehicles on the streets of Colonial Williamsburg, only walking and carriage rides and an occasional man upon a horse. The town was quaint; all the townspeople were dressed in clothing from the time and going about their daily business. Quinn could smell wood smoke on the breeze and heard drums faintly.

For Quinn, the bindery was a very fascinating experience, watching the binder put together books of the time, binding the pages together, covering them with leather. He had special tools for all of this, including a tool to inscribe the leather covering the finest books of the time. There were twenty-eight steps to bind a book, including threading the pages and making the typical covering for books, a paste paper. The books were sold at the adjacent post office, mostly to planters, church officials, courthouses, and tradesmen. Quinn snapped pictures with her phone, checking for any messages from Sam. He usually texted her in the morning and throughout the day, but there were no messages at that point.

The group was then taken to the printing office, which was actually attached to the post office. Quinn felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, but it was only a message from her mom, checking on how the book tour was going. Still nothing from Sam. She took several pictures with her phone, then put it away and listened to the printer tell about the process used in the mid 1700s.

She tried to focus on Mr. William Parks, Williamsburg's first printer, talking about composing type for the _Virginia Gazette_, placing it in the galley where a worker called a 'beater' applied ink and beat it onto the type. The pressman then operated the press to produce the paper.

"You look, hmm, distracted, Ms. Fabray," Cutter whispered, sidling up to her as they watched the process.

"Not at all, Jensen. Just trying to listen to Mr. Parks speak," she replied, her tone clipped. She wondered how much the beater would take in payment to beat Cutter. Then, she giggled.

"And now laughter. I cannot figure you out," he said, rocking on his heels, appearing to listen to Mr. Parks. "Someday soon, I will...I'll figure you out."

She ignored his comment and checked her phone again.

She only half-listened to the postmaster, Mr. Hunter, tell them about his duties in the colonial post office. She knew she should be paying attention, but she couldn't concentrate, no message from Sam and Cutter still eyeing her from across the small building. At the conclusion of the exhibit, Marcy took Quinn by the elbow and led her outside.

"What do you think, Quinn? We never get to do anything like this! Where do you want to go next?" Marcy said, bubbling over with excitement. "Shall we go explore the Palace before lunch?"

Quinn put her phone away. "Yes, sure, that'd be wonderful." Quinn herself could hear the less than enthusiastic tone to her voice.

Marcy hooked her arm with Quinn's as they headed off toward the Governor's Palace after checking the map.

"You seem…a little distant…since breakfast. Is the tour wearing you out already?"

Quinn laughed. "Oh no, Marcy! I'm sorry…I just, um, haven't heard from Sam this morning." She paused. "I guess I'm missing him a little bit."

"Ah! Young love! I'm sure he'll be in touch. I bet he misses you more than you miss him," Marcy said. They passed a trio of young Revolutionary soldiers who nodded their hello's to the ladies. Marcy tittered, much like Mrs. Bucktrout. "I just love stuff like this!"

"This is all very fascinating. I really enjoyed the bindery and printing shop, though Cutter wouldn't leave me alone," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

"He'll move on soon, mark my words. He's that way with all the ladies. Once another girl catches his eye, you'll be yesterday's news, which is all for the better." Marcy paused. "We've all been there, Quinn, all us girls."

Quinn looked over at Marcy, shocked, then relieved. "Okay…I'll take your word for it then. He can be such a…such a…"

"Prick?" Marcy finished.

"Exactly!" Quinn agreed, laughing again.

They arrived at the Palace gates.

"After you, my dear," Marcy said with a flourish.

Quinn and Marcy strolled onto the Palace grounds, following others to look at the stables and other outbuildings before venturing inside the large home.

"Jeez, this stable is larger than my home!" Marcy whispered to Quinn.

She was right, though. The stable and carriage house were both larger than a contemporary home. Inside the Palace, they followed along with a group of visitors, listening to the tour guide go on about the uses of the rooms, the decor, the people who had lived there, including Thomas Jefferson. Quinn wandered through a blue room, then a green room, then the ballroom that was tastefully decorated in golds. She loved all the colors but suddenly she was homesick for her own home and all of its colors and Sam. She checked her phone again but the only message was from Taryn, telling her that she and her boyfriend had decided to keep their baby, which gave her reason to smile briefly. They stopped in a room with a fireplace and above it multiple rifles and pistols and swords adorning the walls. The room was wood paneled, dark brown, and Quinn just wanted to sit down and be alone. However, the tour moved onward. They saw a bedroom that contained a bed Quinn fell in love with. It was a four-poster bed and the bedclothes, including the draping above it, were covered with violets. She loved the purple and yearned for her own bedroom in Charleston. The dining room was simple but grand. The walls were white with navy blue drapes. In one pale blue large sitting room, there were portraits adorning the walls that were life-sized, of past governors. Quinn couldn't imagine a painting that large of herself hanging in her home.

Outside, they were free to tour the gardens and also explore the cellar of the Palace. They started with the cellar.

"Okay, Quinn, this is crazy...the _basement_ is larger than my house!" Marcy said, roaming around. The basement was indeed large. Quinn noticed men meandering about who didn't have to stoop over, meaning the ceilings had to be at least 7 feet tall. It was a very clean and dry space.

"This must have been what it was like to be rich back then," Quinn whispered to Marcy.

Quinn moved around, checking out the space. The guide told them that children used to play hide-and-seek in the expansive cellar. Of course, then it would have been filled with crates of root vegetables and casks of wine and unused furniture and even ammunition. Quinn came around one pillar to find herself face-to-face with Cutter.

"'Ello, milady!" he said with a mock British accent and a flourish of a bow with an invisible cap. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Quinn groaned at his appearance, though he was laughing. Marcy joined them.

"Really Jensen? Have you been following us the entire time?" she asked him.

"As a matter of fact, no. I just arrived at the Palace and started my tour here. Ladies," he tipped his nonexistent hat and wandered off.

Quinn and Marcy made their way to the garden maze.

"It's so peaceful here..." Quinn said, taking a seat on a bench near a creek. "I wonder what it sounded like then, with no cars or technology."

Marcy sat down with her. "Probably insanely quiet. But, yes, peaceful."

Quinn tried to peek at her phone.

"Relax, Quinny. He'll call or text or whatever soon. You are way uptight. Let's go get us a drink...a liquid lunch!" Marcy said happily, standing and pulling Quinn up with her. "Come along, darling!"

Quinn glanced at her phone once more, sighed, and put it away.

xxxxx

They found lunch at Chowning's Tavern. They were seated and enjoyed their lunches along with ice-cold beer. Marcy babbled on and on about what she wanted to see next. Thankfully, Chet and his agent and Cutter's agent appeared for lunch and Marcy decided to tag along with them for the afternoon as Quinn had said she was going to retire to the Bucktrout House for a nap before the signing. The others expressed their disappointment but understood. Quinn asked if they had seen Cutter but none of them had.

"He wandered off, probably chasing tail," Chet said, very uncharacteristically and laughed. "I'm anxious to see Bruton Parish. What about you all?"

The conversation again turned to things and places they wanted to see, and Quinn quietly sipped on her ale.

They finished lunch and went their separate ways. Before heading back to the Bucktrout House, Quinn stopped again at the post office. There, she wrote a quick postcard to her parents and had it sent from Williamsburg. She knew they ate that stuff up. She then walked slowly back to the House, checking her phone again. No messages at all. Now, in the peace and quiet, she allowed her mind to wander. The beer she had drunk at the tavern had given her a bit of a buzz, but her mind swirled with possibilities about Sam.

Had he just forgotten to text her? Was he otherwise distracted by his friends or family? Or his ex-girlfriend? His fall break was coming to an end, and he'd be returning home with his parents while she was on tour. She wondered if he'd want to come back to her house when she got back, to stay. She sighed and stopped at a bench to send him a text message.

_I'm in Wmsburg now...without you..._

She took a picture down the main road and sent him the message, wondering what he was doing.


	21. What's Missing

_**Chapter 21~What's Missing**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.**

Quinn concluded that the nap she took before the signing was one of the best naps she'd ever taken. The bed in her room was like sleeping on a cloud. When Mrs. Bucktrout called her to wake her, she really didn't want to climb out of the fluffiness. She had pulled the drapes in her room, so her room was now like a cave, warm and dark, and all she wanted to do was hibernate. However, work called and she needed to pull herself together for her signing that evening. Reluctantly, she checked her phone before taking a shower and saw no messages from Sam. Underneath the hot steamy water, she leaned against the wall and cried quietly.

She hated herself for bawling like a baby over Sam and him not contacting her. She sucked in her breath finally and stood up straight and finished her shower. She was not going to let him disappointing her ruin what was sure to be a fun evening, after hours in Williamsburg! She sighed again.

Out of the shower, she checked her outfits for what to wear.

She chose a dress she had not yet worn on the tour...a pale green cocktail dress that fell to just below her knee. The saleslady had remarked on how it made her eyes shine the day she tried it on. The skirt was full from an empire waist and had an emerald green tulle overlay. She also had an emerald green tulle shrug about her shoulders. The bodice was just a simple tank style top with a large flat bow at her right hip. The saleslady called it "modern vintage."

Quinn laid it on the bed, then chose her undergarments, a simple nude strapless slip and nude thong. She planned to go without hose that evening, just bare legs, so she smoothed on a slightly shimmering lotion to her legs, arms, décolletage, and face. She straightened her hair, then swept it back into a simple pony using a green clip to match the dress. She next did her makeup, vamping it up a little. Usually, she went fairly light on colors, preferring a simple face, but that night she wanted to make a statement...mainly that she didn't care that Sam had not spoken to her. She used purple eye shadow and black liner and mascara on her eyes, a deeper shade of blush and lipstick even. She added a matching set of earrings, a bracelet, and a cocktail ring...all emerald green costume jewelry with multifaceted crystals. Finally, she slipped her feet into a pair of emerald green peep-toe satin pumps, showing off her emerald green pedicure.

She put her necessities in an emerald green satin clutch and headed downstairs to the common room to await the carriage ride to the bookstore. As it turned out, the others were waiting on her. Chet immediately jumped to his feet at her arrival; Cutter whistled low, then stood as well. Quinn noted that Marcy and the other two agents were dressed as usual, as were Chet and Cutter, in suits, ties, and pantsuits. She was obviously overdressed, but she didn't care.

"Shall we go?" she purred to the room. Chet rushed to offer her his arm, and Cutter followed closely behind her.

"I didn't realize this was a black-tie function," he murmured quietly behind her.

"It's not...I just felt like dressing up," she replied.

Two carriages were waiting outside the Bucktrout House. Chet and Cutter both tried to help Quinn up into the carriage, but she allowed the driver to do that. Marcy plopped down next to her.

"You look exquisite, Quinn," she whispered. "Do you know something?"

Quinn looked at her. "Know what?"

"I mean, did you, you know, talk to Sam yet?" Marcy sputtered out.

Quinn turned away and looked out the side of the carriage. "No, not yet."

"Oh...well...tonight should be fun!" Marcy said cheerfully.

Quinn remained quiet.

_xxxxx_

At the bookstore, they were dropped off at the front door. The bookstore itself was comprised of two stories; the ground floor was reserved for Williamsburg items and books; the upper floor was where the more mainstream books were located. The manager who had met the others in Charlotte, Mr. Martin, was on hand and awaiting their arrival.

"Welcome to Williamsburg Booksellers!" Mr. Martin said. He was obviously a jovial man, and Quinn wondered if he ever posed as Santa during Christmas.

"Mr. Martin, thank you so much for having us. You haven't met two of the authors who are signing tonight, Jensen Cutter and Quinn Fabray," Marcy told him.

Quinn shook the man's hand, blushing a bit as he eyed her up and down.

"It's so very nice to meet you, Mr. Martin," she said quietly.

"The pleasure is _all_ mine," he responded, moving on to Cutter.

He led the group to the rear of the store where they took the elevator to the next level.

The second floor of the bookstore was well lit and spacious with a lot of room to move around and check out their books and other goods. The book signing area was set up near the windows that overlooked the main street of Colonial Williamsburg. All of their usual items were handy: pens, water, props, and even books. Mr. Martin had expedited an order of extra books of theirs to have on hand. Quinn's station was in the middle, between Cutter and Chet at this signing. She noticed several glances from the few customers milling around, checking her out. Both men tried to pull out her chair when she went behind the table to sit down. She smoothed her skirt beneath her and sat down gently. Both men then tried to push her up to the table. In her mind, Quinn was finding it very comical.

Mr. Martin had been talking with their agents during this. He then came over to the authors to speak with them.

"I just wanted to let you all know that we have really increased our advertising about you three being here tonight and tomorrow, all around this area, so we anticipate a nice turnout. At 7, we'll allow your readers to come upstairs. After the signing, your dinner will be waiting for you at the Inn."

Quinn stood up suddenly. "Mr. Martin, could you please direct me to the ladies' room?"

"Most certainly, Ms. Fabray! Right this way," he said, offering her his arm. She took his arm and walked with him past the elevator to an employees-only area of the second floor, to a hallway and the last door on the right.

"Here you are, Ms. Fabray. And, again, please allow me to express my gratitude to you for visiting us here at Booksellers," he said, happily, then turned and returned to the main area of the floor.

She chuckled a bit, shook her head, and entered the ladies' room. The room was more like a lounge with a couple lush loveseats, tasteful accents, and perfect lighting. She sat down on of the loveseats and pulled her phone from her clutch. Checking it one last time before the signing began, she saw only one new message...from her mom.

_You know, I've been thinking Quinny...that Sam might just be the one for you!_...her mother had said in her message.

Hot stupid tears stung her eyes as she read that message. She had foolishly thought the same thing but now was questioning it, which was stupid in and of itself since it had really just been less than a day that she hadn't heard from him.

"Get yourself together, Quinn Fabray," she muttered, standing up and facing herself in a mirror. She fixed her makeup and hair, took a deep breath, and returned to her table.

Again, she felt like the center of attention while walking to her station and that boosted her spirits a bit. Again, Chet and Cutter both stood and pulled her chair out.

"Thank you, boys," she said with a bit of flirt in her voice, for the fun of it. She plastered a smile on her face and prepared for the first of her fans.

_xxxxx_

The first thing she noticed was a lack of protesters at the bookstore. She assumed it was because they were there on such short notice. However, Mr. Martin had not lied when he said they had done their best at promoting their signing as the second floor of the bookstore filled up quickly.

The crowd was about evenly distributed between the three authors with a seemingly unending throng of people at their tables. When Quinn had the opportunity, she'd look out at the crowd to see when there might be a break. At one point, a flash of blond hair caught her eye but then the crowd shifted and she lost sight of it. Her first thought was _Sam_ but then it could've been anyone's blond hair.

Every once in awhile, Chet or Cutter would offer her a drink or snack or would try to chat between signings.

The atmosphere at the signing was fun, light, and happy. Cutter and Chet began telling Quinn jokes, to get her to smile and laugh and trying to one-up the other.

"How do you catch a squirrel?" Chet asked Quinn.

She smiled. "I don't know...how?"

"Crawl up a tree and act like a nut," he replied, chuckling.

"Really Vickers? That's all you have?" Cutter said from Quinn's other side. He turned his gaze to Quinn. "I never wanted to believe that my dad was stealing from his job as a road worker."

"Oh yeah?" she asked.

"Until I went home and all the signs were there," he finished.

Quinn snorted. She then turned to a young girl and her mother and signed their books.

"How does the man in the moon cut his hair?" Chet asked her at the next break.

"I have no clue..."

"Eclipse it!" he laughed.

"Why did the cowboy adopt a wiener dog?"

Quinn was still giggling; she shook her _no_ as in she didn't know.

"Because he wanted to get a long little doggie," Cutter said in his best cowboy voice, making Quinn laugh out loud.

"What's missing from me?" a voice in front of her asked, sliding a new copy of her latest book across the table to her.

She looked up from the tan slacks to the navy blue cardigan, white shirt, and navy blue tie, into Sam's eyes. He was smiling, his lop-sided smile, at her. She jumped up and into his arms over her table.

"It's you, Sam! It's you!" she cried into his shoulder.

Chet looked over to Cutter. "She got that one...he's not a very good joke-teller." Cutter shrugged and went back to signing.

Quinn broke their embrace to come around the table and hug him properly.

"Oh my god, Sam, I can't believe you're here...you're actually here!" she said, excited. He kissed her suddenly, right on the mouth, holding her closer, bending her backward with the force of his kiss.

"My god, I've missed that," he said when he came up for air.

"Me too, Sam, me too..." she said, breathless. "C'mon..."

She nodded to Marcy and grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him back to the employees' only hallway and into the ladies room. Again, they were in each other's arms within seconds.

"Sam, Sam, Sam...how did you...?" she asked in between planting kisses all over his face. He stopped her, holding her face in his hands to just gaze at her.

"I-I missed you...so here I am..." he leaned in and kissed her tenderly, slowly. Their lips parted as if on cue, and their tongues were suddenly touching, tasting.

"I missed you too...this is such a surprise, Sam Evans!" she nearly screeched. She hugged him again. "Time? What time is it?"

He pulled his phone from his pocket and told her 8:45.

"Okay, good...I've got 15 minutes to go, then supper I guess. Please say you can stay," she said, gripping his arms, imploring with her eyes.

"Yeah, yes, of course...until Sunday night..." he said.

She squealed in delight, then hugged him again. "I've got to get back out there..."

"Okay...is there, uh, maybe a men's room nearby?" he asked sheepishly, glancing down at the front of his trousers, tented out by even that slight touching.

"Across the hall...you don't know how happy you've made me, Samuel!" She kissed him again before poking her head out of the door, then ushering him into the men's room.

She returned to her table, flushed and obviously happy. The next girl in line said, "He sure is hot in person!"

Quinn just smiled up at her.

Sam returned and sat down with Quinn at a chair she had procured just for him. He sat there quietly for the last 15 or so minutes of the signing, watching Quinn interact with her fans/readers, himself beaming. At the end, after she had signed the last book, he hugged her.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered.

She squealed a little...he was all hers now.

"Quinn, are you going to introduce us?" Cutter asked from behind Sam. She tried to subtly roll her eyes.

"Jensen Cutter, Sam Evans...Chet Vickers, Sam Evans..." she said curtly, taking Sam's hand to lead him away from the others. Sam nodded at the men and followed Quinn. She sought out a quiet corner for them to reacquaint themselves.

"You...you are just insanely gorgeous tonight, Quinn," he said huskily, looking her up and down. "Just perfect."

"_This_ is perfect," she countered, pulling at his cardigan. "Let me guess..."

He said _my mom_ and she said _your mom_ at the same time, then laughed.

"How did you..." she started, staring at him. "How did you get to me?"

"I emailed Marcy...she gave me the deets...here I am...I missed you so freakin' much...and, I'll be honest with you, my hand just wasn't cutting it anymore."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her back, letting out some little happy sound.

"I just can't believe you're here...and in my arms!" she said, her voice full of happiness. "But, ugh, we have dinner...how can I keep my hands...my _mouth_...off you during dinner? Wait...where are you staying?"

With the mention of her mouth on him, he stood there, mouth agape, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Sam?"

He snapped out of it. "Where you're staying...Marcy okayed it. And, yes, dinner...I'm sure you're hungry."

She chuckled and winked at him.

_xxxxx_

"You two look like you're off to a sock hop," Chet said when they returned to the group.

"A sock hop?" Sam asked. Quinn hooked her arm through his.

"Maybe later, Chet," she said. She introduced Sam to the other agents and Marcy who eyed him closely, then smiled at Quinn.

"Dinner awaits!" she said exuberantly and led the group downstairs to the carriages. Sam and Quinn fell in behind the others.

"Where's your bag?" she asked him quietly.

"I dropped it off at the house...that place is really nice. Mrs. Bucktrout was pretty awesome," he said, smiling. "Then, a carriage brought me here."

She squeezed his arm. "I'm just so happy to see you, in person!"

"Me too...I'm glad I decided to do this...I just told my mom, bought the ticket, and..."

"Wait...bought the ticket?"

"I flew here...it was kind of a mess at the airport...I should've been here sooner. I wanted to surprise you," he said.

"Is that why you didn't contact me all day? I kept waiting on a text or a call...anything...I was kinda freaking out," she admitted to him.

He helped her into the waiting carriage, then sat down next to her, pulling her close beneath the crook of his arm.

"I'm sorry...I just wanted it to be a surprise," he whispered to her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She turned into his kiss, letting him kiss her fully on the mouth. His lips were supple against hers and as the kissing proceeded they became a bit swollen. Just touching her tongue to his set off shivers straight to her lady parts, and she squirmed a bit next to him. She gripped his thigh, wanting badly to feel his erection, but knowing she had to wait. His arm tightened around her shoulders, pulling her back for another kiss. That time, she let her hand slip up farther and felt him say _yes_ on her lips. She let her hand move up his thigh until she felt the crotch of his pants...and the heat radiating from him. He pulled his cardigan down in front of himself, and her hand was hidden.

He was rigid against his thigh beneath the fabric. He adjusted his hips, and she pushed at his cock and it sprung upward. She slowly palmed the bulge in his pants, feeling the throb of his pulse. The carriage bumped along, and she gripped him suddenly. She kissed at his earlobe, sucking him.

"I want it, Sam..." she whispered. He groaned quietly, gripping the side of the carriage.

The light from the Inn was close.

"I want you to have it..." he whispered back to her. "Right now, though, I need some cool air."

He hopped from the carriage as it slowed, waiting in the shadows to help Quinn from her seat. She turned on the seat, her knees at eye level with Sam. Surreptitiously, he ran his hands up her bare calves to her hands and helped her down.

He fell in behind her as they followed the others inside. "How long will we be at supper?" he asked quietly.

"Too long, I'm sure..."

"I want to eat you right now..."

He slid his arm around her waist, walking alongside her, glancing at her blush. He slipped his hand into his pocket and readjusted himself before entering the Inn for what might possibly be the longest dinner of his young life.


End file.
